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LIFE 



EDWARD GIBBON, ESQ. 



SELECTIONS FROM HIS CORRESPONDENCE, 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



THE REV. H. H. MILMAN, 



PREBENDARY OF ST. PETER S, AND MINISTER OF ST. MARGARET S, 
WESTMINSTER. 



LONDON: 
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET. 

MDCCCXXXIX. 



INTRODUCTION. 



The admirable manner in which Gibbon executed 
the sketch of his own Life, as well as the total de- 
ficiency of materials for a new Biography, altogether 
preclude the attempt to recompose the Life of the 
Author of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Em- 
pire. The writer of a very able criticism on Gib- 
bon's MiscellaneousWorks, in the QuarterlyReview, 
vol. xii. p. 375. (the late Dr. Whitaker, the His- 
torian of Craven, and the Editor of Piers Plough- 
man's Vision and Creed), thus felicitously and 
justly characterises the Life of Gibbon: — "It is 
perhaps the best specimen of Autobiography in 
the English language. Descending from the lofty 
level of his History, and relaxing the stately 
march which he maintains throughout that work, 
into a more natural and easy pace, this enchant- 
ing writer, with an ease, spirit, and vigour pe- 
culiar to himself, conducts his readers through a ' 
sickly childhood, a neglected and desultory edu- 
cation, and a youth wasted in the unpromising and 
unscholar-like occupation of a militia officer, to the 
period when he resolutely applied the energies of 
his genius to a severe course of voluntary study, 
which in the space of a few years rendered him a 
a 3 



VI INTRODUCTION. 

consummate master of Roman antiquity, and lastly 
produced the history of the decline and fall of 
that mighty empire." 

In republishing the Life of Gibbon, the Editor 
has taken the liberty of dividing it into chapters, in 
order that the longer notes, the extracts, and 
the journals, which distract the reader of the 
text, and break its agreeable flow, may be inter- 
posed at those intervals at which we may suppose 
the reader inclined to pause ; yet each extract 
may present itself at the proper period of the 
Life. 

The Editor has inserted in their place, in these 
additions, such parts of Gibbon's correspondence 
as appeared most likely to interest the reader, 
and to throw light on the character of Gibbon ; 
with the few anecdotes which he has been able 
to glean from other quarters, and such observations 
as seemed calculated to illustrate the work. — M. 



ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDITION. Vll 



From Lord Sheffield's Advertisement to the First 
Edition of Gibbon's Miscellaneous TVorks. 

The melancholy duty of examining the papers 
of my deceased Friend devolved upon me at a 
time when I was depressed by severe afflictions. 

In that state of mind, I hesitated to undertake 
the task of selecting and preparing his manuscripts 
for the press. The warmth of my early and long 
attachment to Mr. Gibbon made me conscious of a 
partiality, which it was not proper to indulge, es- 
pecially in revising many of his juvenile and un- 
finished compositions. I had to guard, not only 
against a sentiment like my own, which I found 
extensively diffused, but also against the eagerness 
occasioned by a very general curiosity to see in 
print every literary relic, however imperfect, of so 
distinguished a writer. 

Being aware how disgracefully authors of emi- 
nence have been often treated, by an indiscreet 
posthumous publication of fragments and careless 
effusions ; when I had selected those Papers which 
to myself appeared the fittest for the public eye, 
I consulted some of our common friends, whom I 
knew to be equally anxious with myself for Mr. 
Gibbon's fame, and fully competent, from their 
judgment, to protect it. 

Under such a sanction it is, that, no longer sus- 
a 4 



Vlll ADVERTISEMENT TO 

pecting myself to view through too favourable a 
medium the compositions of my Friend, I now 
venture to publish them : and it may here be 
proper to give some information to the reader 
respecting the contents of these volumes. 

The most important part consists of Memoirs 
of Mr. Gibbon's Life and Writings, a work which 
he seems to have projected with peculiar solici- 
tude and attention, and of which he left Six dif- 
ferent sketches, all in his own hand-writing, One 
of the sketches, the most diffuse and circumstantial, 
so far as it proceeds, ends at the time when he 
quitted Oxford. Another at the year 1764, when 
he travelled to Italy. A third at his father's death, 
in 1770. A fourth, which he continued to March 
1791, appears in the form of Annals, much less de- 
tailed than the others. The two remaining sketches 
are still more imperfect. But it is difficult to dis- 
cover the order in which these several Pieces were 
written. From all of them the following Me- 
moirs have been carefully selected, and put to- 
gether. 

My hesitation in giving these Memoirs to the 
world arose, principally, from the circumstance of 
Mr. Gibbon's seeming, in some respect, not to 
have been quite satisfied with them, as he had 
so frequently varied their form : yet, notwith- 
standing this diffidence, the compositions, though 
unfinished, are so excellent, that I think myself 
justified in permitting my Friend to appear as his 
own biographer, rather than to have that office 



THE FIRST EDITION. IX 

undertaken by any other person less qualified for 
it. 

This opinion has rendered me anxious to publish 
the present Memoirs, without any unnecessary de- 
lay ; for I am persuaded, that the Author of them 
cannot be made to appear in a truer light than he 
does in the following pages. In them, and in his 
different Letters, which I have added, will be 
found a complete picture of his talents, his dis- 
position, his studies, and his attainments. 

Those slight variations of character, which na- 
turally arose in the progress of his life, will be 
unfolded in a series of letters, selected from a 
correspondence between him and myself, which 
continued full thirty years, and ended with his 
death. 

It is to be lamented, that all the sketches of the 
Memoirs, except that composed in the form of 
annals, cease about twenty years before Mr. 
Gibbon's death ; and consequently, that we have 
the least detailed account of the most interesting 
part of his life. His Correspondence during that 
period will, in a great measure, supply the de- 
ficiency. It will be separated from the Memoirs 
and placed in an appendix, that those who are 
not disposed to be pleased with the repetitions, 
familiarities, and trivial circumstances of epistolary 
writing, may not be embarrassed by it. By many 
the letters will be found a very interesting part 
of the present publication. They will prove, how 
pleasant, friendly, and amiable Mr. Gibbon was in 



ADVERTISEMENT TO 



private life; and if" in publishing letters so flat- 
tering to myself, I incur the imputation of vanity, 

I shall meet the charge with a frank confession, 
that I am indeed highly vain of having enjoyed, 
for so many years, the esteem, the confidence, and 
the affection of a man, whose social qualities en- 
deared him to the most accomplished society, and 
whose talents, great as they were, must be acknow- 
ledged to have been fully equalled by the sincerity 
of his friendship. 

Whatever censure may be pointed against the 
Editor, the Public will set a clue value on the 
letters for their intrinsic merit. I must, indeed, 
be blinded, either by vanity or affection, if they do 
not display the heart and mind of their author, in 
such a manner as justly to increase the number of 
his admirers. 

I have not been solicitous to garble or expunge 
passages which, to some, may appear trifling. Such 
passages will often, in the opinion of the observing 
reader, mark the character of the writer, and the 
omission of them would materially take from the 
ease and familiarity of authentic letters. 

Few men, I believe, have ever so fully unveiled 
their own character, by a minute narrative of their 
sentiments and pursuits, as Mr. Gibbon will here 
be found to have done ; not with study and labour 
— not with an affected frankness —but with a 
genuine confession of his little foibles and pecu- 
liarities, and a good-humoured and natural display 
of his own conduct and opinions. 



THE FIRST EDITION. 



Mr. Gibbon began a journal, a work distinct 
from the sketches already mentioned, in the early 
part of his life, with the following declaration : — 

" I propose from this day, August 24th, I76I, to 
keep an exact journal of my actions and studies, 
both to assist my memory, and to accustom me to 
set a due value on my time. I shall begin by 
setting down some few events of my past life, the 
dates of which I can remember." 

This industrious project he pursued occasionally 
in French, with the minuteness, fidelity, and libe- 
rality of a mind resolved to watch over and improve 
itself. 

The journal is continued under different titles, 
and is sometimes very concise, and sometimes 
singularly detailed. One part of it is entitled " My 
Journal," another " Ephemerides, or Journal of 
my Actions, Studies, and Opinions." The other 
parts are entitled, " Ephemerides, ou Journal de 
ma Vie, de mes Etudes, et de mes Sentimens." In 
this journal, among the most trivial circumstances, 
are mixed very interesting observations and dissert- 
ations on a satire of Juvenal, a passage of Homer, 
or of Longinus, or of any other author whose works 
he happened to read in the course of the day ; and 
he often passes from a remark on the most common 
event, to a critical disquisition of considerable 
learning, or an inquiry into some abstruse point of 
Philosophy. 

It certainly was not his intention that this pri- 
vate and motley diary should be presented to the 



Xll ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDITION. 

Public; nor have I thought myself at liberty to 
present it, in the shape in which he left it. But 
when reduced to an account of his literary occupa- 
tions) it forms so singular and so interesting a por- 
trait of an indefatigable student, that I persuade 
myself it will be regarded as a valuable acquisition 
by the Literary World, and as an accession of tame 
to the memory of my Friend. With the extracts 
from Mr. Gibbon's journal will be printed, his dis- 
sertations, entitled " Extraits Raisonnes de mes 
Lectures :" and " Recueil de mes Observations, et 
Pieces detachees sur differens Sujets." Afew other 
passages from other parts of the journals, introduced 
in notes, will make a curious addition to the Me- 
moirs. 

It remains only to express a wish, that in dis- 
charging this latest office of affection, my regard 
to the memory of my Friend may appear, as I trust 
it will do, proportioned to the high satisfaction 
which I enjoyed for many years in possessing his 
entire confidence, and very partial attachment. 



SHEFFIELD. 



Sheffield-Place, 

6th Aug. 1795. 



CONTENTS. 



INTRODUCTION - - - Page 1 

Notes and Additions - 7 

CHAPTER I. 

Account and Anecdotes of the Author's Family. — South Sea 

Scheme, and the Bill of Pains and Penalties against the 

Directors ; among whom was the Author's Grandfather. — 

Character of Mr. William Law. - - - 13 

Notes and Additions - - -30 

CHAP. II. 

Mr. Gibbon's Birth ; he is put under the care of Mr. Kirkby ; 

some Account of Mr. Kirkby The Author is sent to 

Dr. Wooddeson's School, whence he is removed on the Death 
of his Mother. — Affectionate Observations on his Aunt, 
Mrs. Catharine Porten. — Is entered at Westminster School ; 
is removed on account of ill health, and afterwards placed 
under the care of the Rev. Mr. Francis - - 33 

Notes and Additions - - - 53 

CHAP. III. 

Enters a Gentleman Commoner at Magdalen College, Oxford. 
— Remarks on that University. — Some Account of Mag- 
dalen College. — Character of Dr. Waldegrave, Mr. Gibbon's 
first Tutor. — The Author determines to write an History ; 
its Subject. — Solution of a Chronological Difficulty. — 
Mr. Gibbon is converted to the Roman Catholic Religion ; 
cites the Examples of Chillingworth and Bayle ; their Cha- 
racters. — Mr. Gibbon obliged to leave Oxford. — Farther 
Remarks on the University - - -56 

Notes and Additions _ - 8* 



CONTENTS. 



CHAP. IV. 



The Author is removed to Lausanne, and placed under the care 
of M. Pavilliard. — Reflections on his Change of Situation. — 
Character of M. Pavilliard, and an Account of his manner 
of restoring Mr. Gibbon to the Protestant Church. — 
Mr. Gibbon received the Sacrament in the Church of 
Lausanne on Christmas-day, 1754. — The Author's Account 
of the Books he read, and of the Course of Study he 
pursued. — Makes the Tour of Switzerland ; forms a Cor- 
respondence with several Literary Characters ; is introduced 
to Voltaire, and sees him perform several Characters in 
his own Plays. — Remarks on his Acting. — Some Account 

of Mademoiselle Curchod (afterwards Madame Necker) 

Reflections on his Education at Lausanne. — He returns to 

England .... Page S7 

Notes and Additions - - - 115 

CHAP. V. 

Mr. Gibbon's manner of spending his Time. — He publishes 
his first Work, Essai stir V Etude de la Litttrature. — Some 
Observations on the Plan, and the Character of the Perform- 
ance. — Character of Dr. Maty. — The Author's manner of 
passing his Time in the Hampshire Militia, and Reflections 
upon it. — He resumes his Studies; determines to write 
upon some Historical Subject ; considers various Subjects, 
and makes Remarks upon them for that purpose - 1 26 

Notes and Additions - - - 160 

CHAP. VI. 

Mr. Gibbon sees Mallet's Elvira performed. — Character of 
that Play. — Passes some time at Paris, gives an Account of 
the Persons with whom he chiefly associated ; proceeds, 
through Dijon and Besancon, to Lausanne. — Characterises 
a Society there, called La Societe du Printems. — Becomes 
acquainted with Mr. Holroyd, now Lord Sheffold. — Re- 
marks on their Meeting. — Some Account of Mr. Gibbon's 
Studies at Lausanne, preparatory to his Italian Journey. — 
He travels into Italy; his Feelings and Observations upon 
his Arrival at Rome — He returns to England - 170 

Notes and Additions - 185 



CONTENTS. 



CHAP. VII. 



Mr. Gibbon's Reflections upon his Situation. — Some Account 
of his Friend M. Deyverdun. — He writes, and commu- 
dicates to his Friends, an Historical Essay upon the Liberty 
of the Swiss. — Their unfavourable Judgment. — Mr. 
Hume's Opinion. — Mr. Gibbon and M. Deyverdun engage 
in a Periodical Work, as a Continuation of Dr. Maty's 
Journal Britannique ; entitled, Memoires Litteraires de la 
Grand Bretagne. — Account of the Work. — Mr. Gibbon 
publishes his Observations on the Vlth iEneid of Virgil, in 

opposition to Bishop Warburton's Hypothesis Mr. Heyne's 

and Mr. Hayley's Opinions of that Essay. — Mr. Gibbon 
determines to write the History of the Decline and Fall. 
— His preparatory Studies. — Reflections on his domestic 
Circumstances; his Father's Death and Character. Page 211 

Notes and Additions - - - 230 



CHAP. VIII. 

Mr. Gibbon settles in London. — Begins his History of the 
Decline and Fall. — Becomes a Member of the House of 
Commons. — Characters of the principal Speakers. — Pub- 
lishes his First Volume ; its Reception. — Mr. Hume's Opinion, 
in a Letter to the Author .... 237 

Notes and Additions - - 244 



CHAP. IX. 

Mr. Gibbon makes a Second Visit to Paris. — His Dispute with 
the Abbe Mably. — He enumerates and characterises the 
Writers who wrote against his 15th and 16th Chapters. — 
— By the Desire of Ministry, he writes the Memoire Justi- 
ficatif. — By the Interest of Lord Loughborough is ap- 
pointed one of the Lords of Trade. — Publishes his Se- 
cond and Third Volumes of his History ; their Reception. — 
Mentions Archdeacon Travis's Attack upon him, and com- 
mends Mr. Porson's Answer to the Archdeacon. — Notices 
also Bishop Newton's Censure. — Proceeds in his His- 
tory - - - - - 249 

Notes and Additions - 265 



CONTEN I B. 



CHAP. X. 



Mr. Gibbon leaves London, and settles at Lausanne, in the 
House of his Friend M. Deyverdun ; his Reasons for doing 
so. — Reflections on his Change of Situation. — Short Cha- 
racters of Prince Henry of Prussia and of Mr. Fox, both 
of whom he sees at Lausanne. — Proceeds in, and finishes 
his History. — Interesting Remarks on concluding it. — Pays 
a Visit to Lord Sheffield in England. — Remarks on Lord 
Sheffield's Writings ; publishes the Remainder of his History . 
returns to Lausanne ; his manner of employing his Time 
— The Death of M. Deyverdun. — Observations of the 
Author upon the French Revolution, the Government of 
Berne, and his own Situation. — The Memoires end. Page 282 

Notes and Additions 



Letters from Edward Gibbon, Esq. to the Right Hon. 
Lord Sheffield - - - - 313 



Letters from Edward Gibbon, Esq. to Lord Sheffield 
and others - - 365 



MEMOIRS 



MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 



INTRODUCTION. 



In the fifty-second year of my age, after the com- 
pletion of an arduous and successful work, I now 
propose to employ some moments of my leisure in 
reviewing the simple transactions of a private and 
literary life. Truth, naked, unblushing truth, the 
first virtue of more serious history, must be the 
sole recommendation of this personal narrative. 
The style shall be simple and familiar : but style is 
the image of character ; and the habits of correct 
writing may produce, without labour or design, 
the appearance of art and study. My own amuse- 
ment is my motive, and will be my reward : and if 
these sheets are communicated to some discreet 
and indulgent friends, they will be secreted from 
the public eye till the author shall be removed be- 
yond the reach of criticism or ridicule. 1 

1 This passage is found in one only of the six sketches, and in that 
which seems to have been the first written, and which was laid aside 
among loose papers. Mr. Gibbon, in his communications with me on 



2 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 

A lively desire of knowing and of recording our 

ancestors so generally prevails, that it must depend 
on the influence of some common principle in the 
minds of men. We seem to have lived in the per- 
sons of our forefathers ; it is the labour and reward 
of vanity to extend the term of this ideal longe- 
vity. Our imagination is always active to enlarge 
the narrow circle in which Nature has confined us. 
Fifty or an hundred years may be allotted to an 
individual ; but we step forward beyond death with 
such hopes as religion and philosophy will sug- 
gest ; and we fill up the silent vacancy that pre- 
cedes our birth, by associating ourselves to the 
authors of our existence. Our calmer judgment 
will rather tend to moderate, than to suppress, the 



the subject of his Memoirs, a subject which he had not mentioned to 
any other person, expressed a determination of publishing them in his 
lifetime ; and never appears to have departed from that resolution, 
excepting in one of his letters annexed, in which he intimates a doubt, 
though rather carelessly, whether in his time, or at any time, they would 
meet the eye of the public. — In a conversation, however, not long 
before his death, I suggested to him that, if he should make them a 
full image of his mind, he would not have nerves to publish them, and 
therefore that they should be posthumous ; — He answered, rather 
eagerly, that he was determined to publish them in his lifetime. — S.* 



* The late Lord Sheffield, by elaborate hand. I may venture, 
a clause in his will, positively pro- however, to bear my testimony to 
hibited the publication of any more the meat judgment with which the 
out of the mass of (ribbon's papers late Lord Sheffield exercised his 
in the possession of his family, office of editor in this part of (Jib- 
By the kind favour of the present bon's works ; much has been re- 
Lord Sheffield 1 have been per- jected, in which the public would 
mittcd (of course with the distinct not have Pell the > 1 i l; 1 1 1 cv- 1 interest ; 
understanding that the will of his ami I found not above two or 

father should be rigidly respected) three sentences which 1 should 

to see these six sketches of the life, have wished to rescue from obli- 

written in Gibbon's own clear and vion. — M. 



INTRODUCTION. 3 

pride of an ancient and worthy race. The satirist * 
may laugh, the philosopher may preach ; but Rea- 
son herself will respect the prejudices and habits, 
which have been consecrated by the experience of 
mankind. Few there are who can sincerely de- 
spise in others, an advantage of which they are 
secretly ambitious to partake. The knowledge of 
our own family from a remote period, will be al- 
ways esteemed as an abstract pre-eminence, since 
it can never be promiscuously enjoyed ; but the 
longest series of peasants and mechanics would not 
afford much gratification to the pride of their de- 
scendant. We wish to discover our ancestors, but 
we wish to discover them, possessed of ample for- 
tunes, adorned with honourable titles, and holding 
an eminent rank in the class of hereditary nobles, 
which has been maintained for the wisest and 
most beneficial purposes, in almost every climate 
of the globe, and in almost every modification of 
political society. 

Wherever the distinction of birth is allowed to 
form a superior order in the state, education and 
example should always, and will often, produce 
among them a dignity of sentiment and propriety 
of conduct, which is guarded from dishonour by 
their own and the public esteem. If we read of 
some illustrious line so ancient that it has no be- 
ginning, so worthy that it ought to have no end, 
we sympathize in its various fortunes ; nor can we 
blame the generous enthusiasm, or even the harm- 
less vanity, of those who are allied to the honours 

* Gibbon probably alludes to the splendid eighth Satire of Juvenal. 
— M. 

B 2 



4 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 

of its name. For my own part, could I draw my 
pedigree from a general, a statesman, or a cele- 
brated author, I should study their lives with the 
diligence of filial love. In the investigation of 
past events, our curiosity is stimulated by the im- 
mediate or indirect reference to ourselves ; but in 
the estimate of honour we should learn to value 
the gifts of Nature above those of Fortune ; to 
esteem in our ancestors the qualities that best pro- 
mote the interests of society ; and to pronounce the 
descendant of a king less truly noble than the off- 
spring of a man of genius, whose writings will in- 
struct or delight the latest posterity. The family 
of Confucius is, in my opinion, the most illustrious 
in the world. After a painful ascent of eight or 
ten centuries, our barons and princes of Europe are 
lost in the darkness of the middle ages ; but, in the 
vast equality of the empire of China, the posterity 
of Confucius (1) have maintained, above two thou- 
sand two hundred years, their peaceful honours 
and perpetual succession. The chief of the family 
is still revered, by the sovereign and the people, as 
the lively image of the wisest of mankind. The 
nobility of the Spencers has been illustrated and 
enriched by the trophies of Marlborough ; but I 
exhort them to consider the Fuinj Queen a as the 
most precious jewel of their coronet. Our immortal 
Fielding was of the younger branch of the Earls of 
Denbigh, who draw their origin from the Counts 



Nor less praiseworthy are the ladies three, 

The honour of thai noble familie, 

Of which I meanest boast myself to be. 

Spi ni i:u, Colin Clout, #c, 



INTRODUCTION. 5 

of Habsburg, the lineal descendants of Eltrico, in 
the seventh century, Duke of Alsace. Far dif- 
ferent have been the fortunes of the English and 
German divisions of the family of Habsburg : the 
former, the knights and sheriffs of Leicestershire, 
have slowly risen to the dignity of a peerage ; the 
latter, the Emperors of Germany, and Kings of 
Spain, have threatened the liberty of the old, and 
invaded the treasures of the new world. The suc- 
cessors of Charles the Fifth may disdain their 
brethren of England j but the romance of Tom 
Jones, that exquisite picture of human manners, 
will outlive the palace of the Escurial, and the im- 
perial eagle of the house of Austria. 

That these sentiments are just, or at least natural, 
I am the more inclined to believe, as I am not 
myself interested in the cause ; for I can derive 
from my ancestors neither glory nor shame. Yet 
a sincere and simple narrative of my own life may 
amuse some of my leisure hours \ but it will subject 
me, and perhaps with justice, to the imputation of 
vanity. I may judge, however, from the experience 
both of past and of the present times, that the public 
are always curious to know the men, who have left 
behind them any image of their minds : the most 
scanty accounts of such men are compiled with dili- 
gence, and perused with eagerness; and the student 
of every class may derive a lesson, or an example, 
from the lives most similar to his own. My name 
may hereafter be placed among the thousand arti- 
cles of a Biographia Britannica ; and I must be con- 
scious, that no one is so well qualified, as myself, to 
describe the series of my thoughts and actions. The 
b 3 



G MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 

authority of my masters, of the grave Tluianus (2) , 
and the philosophic Hume (8), might be sufficient 

to justify my design ; but it would not be difficult 
to produce a long list of ancients and moderns, who, 
in various forms, have exhibited their own portraits. 
Such portraits are often the most interesting, and 
sometimes the only interesting parts of their 
writings ; and, if they be sincere, we seldom com- 
plain of the minuteness or prolixity of these personal 
memorials. The lives of the younger Pliny (4), of 
Petrarch (5), and of Erasmus (6), are expressed in 
the epistles, which they themselves have given to 
the world. The essays of Montaigne and Sir Wil- 
liam Temple (7) bring us home to the houses and 
bosoms of the authors : we smile without contempt 
at the headstrong passions of Benvenuto Cellini (8), 
and the gay follies of Colley Cibber (9). The con- 
fessions of St. Austin (10) and Rousseau(l 1 ) disclose 
the secrets of the human heart : the commentaries 
of the learned Huet(12), have survived his evangeli- 
cal demonstration ; and the memoirs of Goldoni(lo) 
are more truly dramatic than his Italian comedies. 
The heretic and the churchman are strongly marked 
in the characters and fortunes of Winston (14) and 
Bishop Newton (15) J and even the dulness of Mi- 
chael de Marolles (16) and Anthony Wood (17) ac- 
quires some value from the faithful representation 
of men and manners. That I am equal or superior 
to some of these, the effects of modesty or affectation 
cannot force me to dissemble. 



NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 



NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 

No. 1. page 4. 
In 1784, seventy-one generations of this family had successively 
enjoyed the respect and veneration of the empire. Confucius, accord- 
ing to the usual chronology, died 479. B. C, nine years before the birth 
of Socrates. — Biographie Universelle, art. Confucius. 

No. 2. page 6. 
Jac. August. Thuani, de Vita sua, Libri sex. It is printed in the 
seventh volume of Buckley's Thuanus. The life of Thuanus partakes of 
the " gravity," which distinguishes his great historical work. It con- 
descends not to those minute and domestic details, or those lighter 
touches of character, which give its peculiar charm and value to auto- 
biography. The public man still keeps his state, and does not admit us 
into the privacy of his heart and feelings. The Latin verses, which are 
inserted, though occasionally incorrect, are extremely spirited and 
vigorous j and there are incidents, particularly the mysterious and 
significant manner of the king (Henry III.) on his parting from him 
previous to the murder at Blois, which illustrate the larger History, to 
which the Life is an indispensable supplement. 

No. 3. page 6. 
The sketch of his own life by David Hume is singularly interest- 
ing, as the key to his opinions and even to his style. Hume seems to 
have been endowed with the most remarkable coolness of temperament 
both in body and mind. He glided through life without having expe- 
rienced, except on one occasion, a profound emotion, or known the power 
of strong sensation. To this inborn calmness, or almost torpidity of his 
nature, may be traced both the amiable and philosophic serenity of his life 
and manners, and the sceptical tendency of his opinions. He was supe- 
rior to, or at least exempt from, the ordinary disquietudes and anxieties 
which harass the man of letters. Failure did not depress, nor success 
elevate him above the usual equable level of his mind. As a writer, he 
was, as near as possible, a being of pure intellect. The disturbing forces 
of the imagination and the passions never for an instant interfered 
with the piercing sagacity of his judgments, or the microscopic pre- 
cision of his investigations. He had just fancy enough to give an 
agreeable vividness to his style, and to elevate him, at times, into 
a master in historic painting. Like an unruffled sheet of water, his 
mind reflected every thing which passed over it with the most clear 
B 4 



8 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 

and exquisite distinctness. At the same time he was disqualified by 
this innate placidity for justly appreciating the force of those more 
violent emotions and loftier sentiments, which agitate mankind in ge- 
m-nil. He viewed human nature not as a man of " like passions," but 
as an inquiring metaphysician. Though with singular judgment he rarely 
intrudes the philosopher into the department of the historian, yet the 
same cast of mind, and even the same tone of language, prevail through- 
out his historical and philosophic writings. 

Hume's philosophy seems to delight in the process of inquiry, without 
caring whether it arrives at any definite or satisfactory conclusion. 
Suspense of mind, on those points on which doubt and uncertainty work 
up more sensitive and high-strung minds to insanity, did not cause 
to him the slightest uneasiness. He reposed as peaceably upon his 
doubts, as the most ardent enthusiast upon his faith. 

Even the approach of death did not affright his mind from its smooth 
propriety. He was content to await with incurious and unapprehensive 
patience the solution of the great mystery of all ; and in this singular 
man, incredulity, for once, almost rivalled the self-command of Christian 
resignation to the Divine will. 

No. 4. page 6. 
Why did Gibbon, ascending so high as Pliny, stop short of Ci- 
cero ? In Cicero, he may have considered, that the public man so 
completely predominated over the man of letters, as to exclude him 
from the class of literary autobiographers ; or, did he retain in view the 
sentence which closes the paragraph, and prudently keep down the 
number of those to whom he could not consider himself equal or 
superior ? 

No. 5. page 6. 

The manner in which the character of Petrarch is developed in 

his Epistles, has no where been exhibited with greater truth and 

candour than in one of the " Essays on Petrarch," by the late Ugo 

Foscolo. 

No. 6. page 6. 
Jortin's Life of Erasmus (of which the outline is Le Clerc's) is 
scarcely more than a summary of the contents of his Letters, with 

occasional extracts illustrative of the character oi' the man and of his 

times. 

No. 7. page (i. 
I should have been inclined t<> have chosen Cowley, rather than 
Mr W. Temple, as the English counterpart t>> the inimitable Mon- 
taigne. 



INTROD. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 9 

No. 8. page 6. 
Gibbon might have added the inordinate vanity of that most 
amusing of autobiographers, the Italian artist. 

No. 9. page 6. 
Cibber's letter to Pope must, of itself, command respect ; it is 
something, by temperate and candid expostulation, to have shamed a 
satirist into the acknowledgement of injustice. Notwithstanding his 
careless professional life, his laureateship, and his original position in 
the Dunciad, the good sense and right feeling of Cibber, as well as his 
comic talents, deserve to retrieve him from the ridicule which attaches 
to his name among those who only know him as the victim of Pope's 
satire. 

No. 10. page 6. 
As Rousseau evidently adopted the title of " Confessions " for 
his autobiography from the work of St. Augustine, so popular in all 
Roman Catholic countries, Gibbon could not, or rather had no wish to 
resist the temptation of classing together works of a character so 
opposite. If both disclose the secrets of the human heart, they show 
still more clearly how different is the state of that heart, no less from 
individual temperament and moral discipline, than from the influence 
of age or country. The comparison is far from unfavourable to Chris- 
tianity. St. Augustine's is the first work in which Christianity is 
faithfully pourtrayed as the one all-absorbing passion of the soul. It 
is the intellectual and spiritual nature struggling to be free, but never 
entirely released from its old bondage. The Saint relates the excesses 
of his youth (deeply coloured, no doubt, by the monastic spirit which 
in his time pervaded Christianity) with profound contrition ; but still 
his divine love has something in its sentiment and expression, we will 
not say of sensualism, but scarcely of pure, awful, and reverential adora- 
tion. It is the same African temperament which has transferred the 
vehemence of its emotions to a different object. But the Confessions of 
St. Augustine is a book which cannot be read without an exalting, 
ennobling, and purifying effect. It is throughout serious and consistent 
in its style and sentiment, though not without some of the faults of 
his age. It is that of a man whose whole being is concentered in the 
moral perfection of his nature. Some of the passages, of domestic 
feeling relating to his mother, which are of exquisite beauty, and on the 
working of his own mind, rise to the force and truth of tragic eloquence ; 
while the view which it opens of the religious and intellectual character 
of the times, the nature of the dominant sects, the education, and all the 
social and religious influences, which struggled for the possession of a 
powerful and thoughtful mind, are, in the highest degree, curious and 



10 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 

instructive. The Confessions of Rousseau is the most contradictory 
and painful book in the whole range Of literature. It is the develop- 
ment of the animal nature, in language suited to the noblest and purest 
conceptions of the human mind. The cold, the serious, the laboured 
obscenity (for there were passages in the genuine editions too gross 
for the unfastidious eyes of his own age and country), the irritable 
and fretful vanity which constantly betrays itself, contrasted with the 
glow and elevation of the diction, produce a chilling mistrust, a 
withering suspicion, of all poetry and all eloquence. In Rousseau, 
likewise, all is serious and earnest, but all is either contradictory or 
untrue : that which is mean, foul, and profligate, seems to come from 
the depths of the heart as much as the loftiest and purest sentiment ; 
but it is rather that the imagination has so completely habituated 
itself to speak the language of the feelings, that even when our eyes are 
opened, when we are disenchanted from the magic of the style, we can 
scarcely persuade ourselves that all those eloquent dreams of unattain- 
able virtue, those wild and distempered, but still eager yearnings after 
what is great and ennobling, are the mere creations of an ardent fancy, 
without any real kindred or communion with the moral being of the 
man. 

No. 1 1 . page 6. 
A parallel between the Confessions of St. Augustine and Rous- 
seau may be found in Schlosser's Universal Geschichte der alten 
Welt, vol. iii. part. 4. p. 55. et seq. M. Schlosser adds, that " Rousseau 
makes his Confession to the public, Augustine to God." 

No. 12. page 6. 
Iluetii Episcopi Abrancensis Commentarius de Rebus ad cum 
pertinentibus. This Latin autobiography of the erudite bishop of 
Avranches is now probably as little read as his theological works. It 
is the uneventful life of a scholar; occasional attacks of constitutional 
maladies, and some uneasiness at having become an object of Boileau's 
bitter satire, are the only incidents which diversify its serene course, 
Iluet lived on terms of close intimacy and mutual esteem with most of 
the learned men of his day, whose names he chronicles with elaborate 
fidelity. 

No. 13. page (i. 

Gibbon has justly characterised the life of Qoldoni as the most 
dramatic, it might almost be added, the most comic, of his works. It is 
singular that the autobiography of the great serious Dramatist o\' 
modern Italy should likewise display more of the elements of tragedy 
than his noble, but somewhat artificial, dramas. There is nothing in 



INTROD. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 11 

literary autobiography more extraordinary or more elevating than the 
strength of purpose with which Alfieri, in despite of difficulties ap- 
parently insurmountable — a neglected education, a dissipated youth, 
the impurity of his native dialect, and even the impetuosity of his own 
passions, forced his way nevertheless to poetic fame, and created Italian 
tragedy. Yet we might have wished that his tragedy had more fre- 
quently breathed that free and vehement passion which distempered 
the life of Alfieri, and is expressed with so much truth and careless 
fidelity in his autobiography. 

No. 14. page 6. 
Memoirs of the Life and Writings of Mr. William Whiston, 
written by himself, London, 1749. With scientific attainments not 
unworthy the disciple of Newton, with considerable theological know- 
ledge, with piety which supported him under neglect and poverty, 
Whiston applied his mathematic knowledge to calculate the time of 
the comet which was to produce the general conflagration, and the length 
of its tail. He assailed the established creed on the faith of docu- 
ments (the Apostolic Constitutions), without a shadow of pretence to 
authenticity ; yet the goodness and sincerity of the man obtained for 
him, even from those who ridiculed his whimsies, the name of " Honest 
Will Whiston." A little common sense, and a great deal less vanity, 
would have made Whiston, instead of the laughing-stock of the bright- 
est age of English wit, an ornament to the science and literature of his 
country, — M. 

; No. 15. page 6. 
The life of Dr. Thomas Newton, Lord Bishop of Bristol, is pre- 
fixed to his works, and has been republished with those of Pocock, 
Pearce, and Skelton, 2 vols. 8vo. 1816. Newton, the editor of Milton, 
the author of a work on the Prophecies, which maintains its popularity, 
was a decent prelate, of respectable learning, and an elegant taste for the 
Fine Arts. He kept steadily in view the upward course of preferment, 
and died Bishop of Bristol and Dean of St. Paul's. His biography is 
chiefly valuable for the anecdotes which it contains of the great men 
of his period, particularly of Pulteney, Earl of Bath, his chief patron, 
and some of the more distinguished churchmen, with whom he was 
in habits of intimacy. Gibbon (see Life) had particular reasons for 
hostility towards Bishop Newton. 

No. 16. page 6. 
It is impossible to deny the palm in dulness to the Memoirs of 
Michael de Marolles, a Frenchman of learning, born A. D. 1600. These 
Memoires were reprinted in three small volumes in 1755. 



12 MEMOIRS OF I XT ROD. 

No. 17. page G. 

The biography of Anthony Wood may be found in the first volume 

of Dr. Bliss's reprint of the Athena' Oxonienses. It is a very singular 

picture of the life of an academic and an antiquarian ; a chronicle of all 

small things seen through the microscope of a small mind. 

I do not feel myself called upon either to make a selection, or to 
offer any observations on the literary autobiographies with which the 
press has teemed since the time of Gibbon. — M 



MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. IS 



CHAPTER I. 

Account and Anecdotes of the Author's Family. — South Sea 
Scheme, and the Bill of Pains and Penalties against the 
Directors ; among whom was the Author s Grandfather. — 
Character of Mr. William Law. 

My family is originally derived from the county of 
Kent. The southern district, which borders on 
Sussex and the sea, was formerly overspread with 
the great forest Anderida, and even now retains 
the denomination of the TVeald, or Woodland. 
In this district, and in the hundred and parish of 
Rolvenden, the Gibbons were possessed of lands in 
the year one thousand three hundredand twenty-six ; 
and the elder branch of the family, without much 
increase or diminution of property, still adheres to 
its native soil. Fourteen years after the first ap- 
pearance of his name, John Gibbon is recorded as 
the Marmorarius or architect of King Edward the 
Third: the strong and stately castle of Queens- 
borough, which guarded the entrance of the 
Medway, was a monument of his skill ; and the 
grant of an hereditary toll on the passage from 
Sandwich to Stonar, in the Isle of Thanet, is the 
reward of no vulgar artist. In the visitations of 
the heralds, the Gibbons are frequently mentioned : 
they held the rank of Esquire in an age when that 
title was less promiscuously assumed: one of them, 
in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, was captain of the 
militia of Kent ; and a free school, in the neigh- 



14 MEMOIRS Of CHAT. I. 

homing town of Benenden, proclaims the charity 

and opulence of its founder. But time, or their 
own obscurity, lias east a veil of oblivion over the 
virtues and vices of my Kentish ancestors ; their 
character or station confined them to the labours 
and pleasures of a rural life : nor is it in my power 
to follow the advice of the poet, in an inquiry after 
a name — 

" Go ! search it there, where to be born, and die, 
Of rich and poor makes all the history," 

so recent is the institution of our parish registers. 
In the beginning of the seventeenth century, a 
younger branch of the Gibbons of Rolvenden mi- 
grated from the country to the city ; and from this 
branch I do not blush to descend. The law re- 
quires some abilities ; the church imposes some re- 
straints ; and before our army and navy, our civil 
establishments, and India empire, had opened so 
many paths of fortune, the mercantile profession 
was more frequently chosen by youths of a liberal 
race and education, who aspired to create their 
own independence. Our most respectable families 
have not disdained the counting-house, or even the 
shop ; their names are inrolled in the Livery and 
Companies of London ; and in England, as well as 
in the Italian commonwealths, heralds have been 
compelled to declare, that gentility is not degraded 
by the exercise of trade. 

The armorial ensigns which, in the times of chi- 
valry, adorned the crest and shield of the soldier, 
are now become an empty decoration, which every 
man, who has money to build a carriage, may paint 
according to his fancy on the panels. My family 
arms are the same, which were borne by the 



CHAP. I. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 15 

Gibbons of Kent in an age, when the College of 
Heralds religiously guarded the distinctions of 
blood and name : a lion rampant gardant, between 
three schallop-shells Argent, on a field Azure. 1 I 
should not however have been tempted to blazon 
my coat of arms, were it not connected with a 
whimsical anecdote. — About the reign of James 
the First, the three harmless schallop-shells were 
changed by Edmund Gibbon, Esq. into three 
Ogresses, or female cannibals, with a design of 
stigmatizing three ladies, his kinswomen, who had 
provoked him by an unjust lawsuit. But this sin- 
gular mode of revenge, for which he obtained the 
sanction of Sir William Seagar, king at arms, soon 
expired with its author; and, on his own monument 
in the Temple church, the monsters vanish, and 
three schallop-shells resume their proper and here- 
ditary place. 

Our alliances by marriage it is not disgraceful 
to mention. The chief honour of my ancestry is 
James Fiens, Baron Say and Seale, and Lord High 
Treasurer of England in the reign of Henry the 
Sixth ; from whom by the Phelips, the Whetnalls, 
and the Cromers, I am lineally descended in the 
eleventh degree. His dismission and imprison- 
ment in the Tower were insufficient to appease the 
popular clamour ; and the Treasurer, with his son- 
in-law Cromer, was beheaded (1450), after a mock 
trial by the Kentish insurgents. The black list of 
his offences, as it is exhibited in Shakspeare, dis- 
plays the ignorance and envy of a plebeian tyrant. 

1 The father of Lord Chancellor Hardvvicke married an heiress of 
this family of Gibbon. The Chancellor's escutcheon in the Temple 
Hall quarters the arms of Gibbon, as does also that, in Lincoln's Inn 
Hall, of Charles Yorke, Chancellor in 1770.- S. 



1(> MEMOIRS 01 CHAP. I. 

Besides the vague reproaches of selling Maine and 

Normandy to the Dauphin, the Treasurer is spe- 
cially accused of luxury, for riding on a foot-cloth, 
and of treason, for speaking French, the language 
of our enemies: "Thou hast most traiterously 
corrupted the youth of the realm," says Jack Cade 
to the unfortunate Lord, " in erecting a grammar- 
school ; and whereas before, our forefathers had no 
other books than the score and the tally, thou hast 
caused printing to be used ; and, contrary to the 
king, his crown, and dignity, thou hast built a 
paper-mill. It will be proved to thy face, that 
thou hast men about thee, who usually talk of a 
noun and a verb, and such abominable words, as 
no christian ear can endure to hear." Our dra- 
matic poet is generally more attentive to character 
than to history ; and I much fear that the art of 
printing was not introduced into England till 
several years after Lord Say's death : but of some 
of these meritorious crimes I should hope to find 
my ancestor guilty ; and a man of letters may be 
proud of his descent from a patron and martyr of 
learning. 

In the beginning of the last century, Robert Gib- 
bon, Esq. of Rolvenden in Kent 2 (who died in 
1018), had a son of the same name of Robert, who 
settled in London and became a member of the 
Clothworkers' Company. His wife was a daughter 

1 Robert Gibbon, my lineal ancestor, in the fifth degree, was captain 

of the Kentish militia, and as he died in the year Hi is, it may be pre- 
sumed that he had appeared in arms at the time of tiie Spanish invasion. 
His wife was Margaret Phillips, daughter of Edward Phillips de la 
Weld in Tenterden, and .»!' Hose his u'ife, elan-liter of George Whitnell, 
.»l' East Peckham, Esquire. Peckham, the seal of the Whltnells of 

Kent, is mentioned, not indeed much to its honour, in the M< moires dn 

Comte de Grammont, a classic work, the delight of every man and 

woman of taste to whom the French language is familiar. 



CHAP. I. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 1J 

of the Edgars, who flourished about four hun- 
dred years in the county of Suffolk, and produced 
an eminent and wealthy serjeant-at-law, Sir Gre- 
gory Edgar, in the reign of Henry the Seventh. 
Of the sons of Robert Gibbon (who died in 1643), 
Matthew did not aspire above the station of a 
linen-draper in Leadenhall-street ; but John has 
given to the public some curious memorials of his 
existence, his character, and his family. He was 
born on the 3d of November, in the year 1629; 
his education was liberal, at a grammar-school, and 
afterwards in Jesus College at Cambridge ; and he 
celebrates the retired content which he enjoyed at 
Allesborough in Worcestershire, in the house of 
Thomas Lord Coventry, where he was employed 
as a domestic tutor. But the spirit of my kinsman 
soon immerged into more active life ; he visited 
foreign countries as a soldier and a traveller; ac- 
quired the knowledge of the French and Spanish 
languages ; passed some time in the Isle of Jersey ; 
crossed the Atlantic, and resided upwards of a 
twelvemonth (1659) in the rising colony of Vir- 
ginia. In this remote province his taste, or rather 
passion, for heraldry found a singular gratification 
at a war-dance of the native Indians. As they 
moved in measured steps, brandishing their toma- 
hawks, his curious eye contemplated their little 
shields of bark, and their naked bodies, which 
were painted with the colours and symbols of his 
favourite science. " At which (says he) I ex- 
ceedingly wondered ; and concluded that heraldry 
was ingrafted naturally into the sense of human 
race. If so, it deserves a greater esteem than 
c 



18 MEMOIRS OF ( -IIAI*. I. 

now-a-davs is put upon it." His return to England 

after the restoration was soon followed by his mar- 
riage — his settlement in a house in St. Catherine's 
Cloyster, near the Tower, which devolved to my 
grandfather — and his introduction into the Heralds' 
College (in I67I) by the style and title of Blue- 
mantle Pursuivant at Arms. In this office he en- 
joyed near fifty years the rare felicity of uniting, in 
the same pursuit, his duty and inclination : his 
name is remembered in the College, and many of 
his letters are still preserved. Several of the most 
respectable characters of the age, Sir William Dug- 
dale, Mr. Ashmole, Dr. John Betts, and Dr. Nehe- 
miah Grew, were his friends; and in the society of 
such men, John Gibbon may be recorded without 
disgrace as the member of an astrological club. 
The study of hereditary honours is favourable to 
the Royal prerogative ; and my kinsman, like most 
of his family, was a high Tory both in church and 
state. In the latter end of the reign of Charles 
the Second, his pen was exercised in the cause of 
the Duke of York : the Republican faction he 
most cordially detested; and as each animal is con- 
scious of its proper arms, the herald's revenge was 
emblazoned on a most diabolical escutcheon. But 
the triumph of the Whig government checked the 
preferment of Blue-mantle ; and he was even sus- 
pended from his office till his tongue could learn 
to pronounce the oath of abjuration. His life was 
prolonged to the age of ninety ; and in the ex- 
pectation of the inevitable though uncertain hour, 
he wishes to preserve the blessings of health, com- 
petence, and virtue. In the year 1682 he pub- 



CHAP. I. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 19 

lished at London his Introductio ad Latinam Bla- 
soniam, an original attempt, which Camden had 
desiderated, to define, in a Roman idiom, the terms 
and attributes of a Gothic institution. It is not 
two years since I acquired, in a foreign land, some 
domestic intelligence of my own family ; and this 
intelligence was conveyed to Switzerland from the 
heart of Germany. I had formed an acquaintance 
with Mr. Langer, a lively and ingenious scholar, 
while he resided at Lausanne as preceptor to the 
Hereditary Prince of Brunswick. On his return 
to his proper station of Librarian to the Ducal 
Library of Wolfenbuttel, he accidentally found 
among some literary rubbish a small old English 
volume of heraldry, inscribed with the name of 
John Gibbon. From the title only Mr. Langer 
judged that it might be an acceptable present to 
his friend ; and he judged rightly. His manner is 
quaint and affected ; his order is confused : but he 
displays some wit, more reading, and still more en- 
thusiasm ; and if an enthusiast be often absurd, he 
is never languid. An English text is perpetually 
interspersed with Latin sentences in prose and 
verse ; but in his own poetry he claims an exemp- 
tion from the laws of prosody. Amidst a profu- 
sion of genealogical knowledge, my kinsman could 
not be forgetful of his own name ; and to him I 
am indebted for almost the whole information con- 
cerning the Gibbon family. 3 From this small 
work (a duodecimo of one hundred and sixty-five 

3 Mr. Gibbon seems, after this was written, to have collected much 
additional information respecting his family ; as appears from a number 
of manuscripts in my possession. — S. (1) 
C 2 



20 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. I. 

pages) the author expected immortal fame ; and, 
at the conclusion of his labour, he sings, in a strain 
of self-exultation : — 

" Usque hue corrigitur Romana Blasonia per me; 
Verborumque dehinc barbara forma cadat. 

Hie liber, in meritum si forsitan incidet usum, 

Testis rite meae sedulitatis erit. 
Quicquid agat Zoilus, ventura fatebitur aetas 

Artis quod fueram non Clvpearis inops." 

Such are the hopes of authors ! In the failure of 
those hopes John Gibbon has not been the first of 
his profession, and very possibly may not be the 
last of his name. His brother, Matthew Gibbon, 
the draper, had one daughter and two sons — my 
grandfather Edward, who was born in the year 
1666, and Thomas, afterwards Dean of Carlisle. 
According to the mercantile creed, that the best 
book is a profitable ledger, the writings of John the 
herald would be much less precious than those of 
his nephew Edward : but an author professes at 
least to write for the public benefit ; and the slow 
balance of trade can be pleasing to those persons 
only to whom it is advantageous. The successful 
industry of my grandfather raised him above the 
level of his immediate ancestors ; he appears to have 
launched into various and extensive dealings : even 
his opinions were subordinate to his interest ; and 
I find him in Flanders clothing King William's 
troops, while he would have contracted with more 
pleasure, though not perhaps at a cheaper rate, for 
the service of King James. During his residence 
abroad, his concerns at home were managed by his 
mother Hester, an active and notable woman, Her 



CHAP. I. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 21 

second husband was a widower, of the name of 
Acton : they united the children of their first nup- 
tials. After his marriage with the daughter of 
Richard Acton, goldsmith in Leadenhall-street, he 
gave his own sister to Sir Whitmore Acton, of Al- 
denham ; and I am thus connected, by a triple 
alliance, with that ancient and loyal family of 
Shropshire baronets. It consisted about that time 
of seven brothers, all of gigantic stature ; one of 
whom, a pigmy of six feet two inches, confessed 
himself the last and the least of the seven ; adding, 
in the true spirit of party, that such men were not 
born since the Revolution. Under the Tory ad- 
ministration of the four last years of Queen Anne 
(1710 — 1714), Mr. Edward Gibbon was appointed 
one of the Commissioners of the Customs ; he sat 
at that Board with Prior : but the merchant was 
better qualified for his station than the poet ; since 
Lord Bolingbroke has been heard to declare, that he 
had never conversed with a man, who more clearly 
understood the commerce and finances of England. 
In the year 17 16 he was elected one of the Di- 
rectors of the South Sea Company ; and his books 
exhibited the proof that, before his acceptance of 
this fatal office, he had acquired an independent 
fortune of sixty thousand pounds. 

But his fortune was overwhelmed in the ship- 
wreck of the year twenty, and the labours of thirty 
years were blasted in a single day. Of the use or 
abuse of the South Sea scheme, of the guilt or in- 
nocence of my grandfather and his brother Di- 
rectors, I am neither a competent nor a disinterested 
judge. Yet the equity of modern times must con- 
c 3 



22 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. L 

demn the violent and arbitrary proceedings, which 
would have disgraced the cause of justice, and 
would render injustice still more odious. Xo 
sooner had the nation awakened from its golden 
dream, than a popular and even a parliamentary 
clamour demanded their victims : but it was ac- 
knowledged on all sides that the South Sea Di- 
rectors, however guilty, could not be touched by 
any known laws of the land. The speech of Lord 
Molesworth, the author of The State of Denmark, 
may show the temper, or rather the intemper- 
ance of the House of Commons. " Extraordinary 
crimes (exclaimed that ardent Whig) call aloud for 
extraordinary remedies. The Roman lawgivers 
had not foreseen the possible existence of a parri- 
cide : but as soon as the first monster appeared, 
lie was sown in a sack, and cast headlong into the 
river ; and I shall be content to inflict the same 
treatment on the authors of our present ruin."* 
His motion was not literally adopted ; but a bill of 
pains and penalties was introduced, a retroactive 
statute, to punish the offences, which did not exist 
at the time they were committed. Such a perni- 
cious violation of liberty and law can be excused 
only by the most imperious necessity ; nor could 



* Lord Mahon's account of tin's conk! be practised upon them. 

transaction (Historj of England This should not have been fo*» 

from the Peace of Utrecht, vol. ii. gotten when the day of disap- 

p. 4. 35.) is clear, judicious, and pointment came; but, when a 

dispassionate. "That there was people is suffering severely, from 

some knavery to punish I do not whatever cause, it always looks 

deny, and I shall presently show, round for a victim, and too often 

It seems to me, however, that the strikes the firsl it finds." P. 20. 

nation had suffered infinitely more Lord Malum, by an oversight, has 

bytheir own self-willed infatuation, written the father, instead of the 

than by any fraud that was or grandfather, of Gibbon. 



CHAP. I. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. c 23 

it be defended on this occasion by the plea of im- 
pending danger or useful example. The legislature 
restrained the persons of the Directors, imposed 
an exorbitant security for their appearance, and 
marked their characters with a previous note of 
ignominy : they were compelled to deliver, upon 
oath, the strict value of their estates ; and were 
disabled from making any transfer or alienation of 
any part of their property. Against a bill of pains 
and penalties it is the common right of every sub- 
ject to be heard by his counsel at the bar : they 
prayed to be heard ; their prayer was refused ; and 
their oppressors, who required no evidence, would 
listen to no defence. It had been at first proposed 
that one-eighth of their respective estates should 
be allowed for the future support of the Directors j 
but it was speciously urged, that in the various 
shades of opulence and guilt, such an unequal pro- 
portion would be too light for many, and for some 
might possibly be too heavy. The character and 
conduct of each man were separately weighed ; 
but, instead of the calm solemnity of a judicial in- 
quiry, the fortune and honour of three and thirty 
Englishmen were made the topic of hasty conver- 
sation, the sport of a lawless majority ; and the 
basest member of the committee, by a malicious 
word or a silent vote, might indulge his general 
spleen or personal animosity. Injury was aggra- 
vated by insult, and insult was embittered by 
pleasantry. Allowances of twenty pounds, or one 
shilling, were facetiously moved. A vague report 
that a Director had formerly been concerned in 
another project, by which some unknown persons 
c 4 



-I- MEMOIRS OF CHAP. I. 

had lost their money, was admitted as a proof of 
his actual guilt. One man was ruined because he 
had dropt a foolish speech, that his horses should 
feed upon gold ; another because he was grown so 
proud, that, one day at the Treasury, he had refused 
a civil answer to persons much above him. All 
were condemned, absent and unheard, in arbitrary 
fines and forfeitures, which swept away the greatest 
part of their substance. Such bold oppression can 
scarcely be shielded by the omnipotence of parlia- 
ment^): and yet it may be seriously questioned, 
whether the Judges of the South Sea Directors 
were the true and legal representatives of their 
country. The first parliament of George the First 
had been chosen (1715) for three years : the term 
had elapsed, their trust was expired ; and the four 
additional years (I7I8— 1722), during which they 
continued to sit, were derived not from the people, 
but from themselves ; from the strong measure of 
the Septennial Bill, which can only be paralleled 
by il serrar di consiglio of the Venetian history.* 
Yet candour will own that to the same parliament 
every Englishman is deeply indebted : the Septen- 
nial Act, so vicious in its origin, has been sanctioned 
by time, experience, and the national consent. Its 
first operation secured the House of Hanover on 
the throne, and its permanent influence maintains 
the peace and stability of government. As often 
as a repeal has been moved in the House of Com- 
mons, I have given in its defence a clear and con- 
scientious vote. 

* Compare Darn, Histoirc ile Venise, liv. vi. torn. i. p. 515. a^U. 



CHAP. I. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 25 

My grandfather could not expect to be treated 
with more lenity than his companions. His Tory 
principles and connections rendered him obnoxious 
to the ruling powers : his name is reported in a 
suspicious secret; and his well-known abilities could 
not plead the excuse of ignorance or error. In the 
first proceedings against the South Sea Directors, 
Mr. Gibbon is one of the few who were taken into 
custody -, and, in the final sentence, the measure 
of his fine proclaims him eminently guilty. The 
total estimate which he delivered on oath to the 
House of Commons amounted to one hundred and 
six thousand five hundred and forty-three pounds, 
five shillings, and sixpence, exclusive of antecedent 
settlements. Two different allowances of fifteen 
and of ten thousand pounds were moved for Mr. 
Gibbon ; but, on the question being put, it was 
carried without a division for the smaller sum. On 
these ruins, with the skill and credit, of which par- 
liament had not been able to despoil him, my 
grandfather at a mature age erected the edifice of 
a new fortune : the labours of sixteen years were 
amply rewarded ; and I have reason to believe that 
the second structure was not much inferior to the 
first. He had realized a very considerable property 
in Sussex, Hampshire, Buckinghamshire, and the 
New River Company ; and had acquired a spacious 
house 4 , with gardens and lands, at Putney, in 
Surry, where he resided in decent hospitality. He 

4 Since inhabited by Mr. Wood, Sir John Shelley, the Duke of 
Norfolk, &c— S * 



* This house has since this time ton, the banker, and now by ■ 
been occupied by Mr. Ken sing- Fletcher, Esq. 



26 klEMOIRfi OF CHAP. I. 

died in December, 1J36, at the age of seventy; 
and by his last will, at the expense of Edward, his 
only son (with whose marriage he was not perfeetly 
reconciled), enriched his two daughters, Catherine 
and Hester. The former became the wife of Mr. 
Edward Elliston : their daughter and heiress, Ca- 
therine, was married in the year 17<56 to Edward 
Eliot, Esq. (now Lord Eliot), of Port Eliot, in the 
county of Cornwall ; and their three sons are my 
nearest male relations on the father's side. A life 
of devotion and celibacy was the choice of my aunt, 
Mrs. Hester Gibbon, who, at the age of eighty-rive, 
still resides in a hermitage at ClifFe, in Northamp- 
tonshire ; having long survived her spiritual guide 
and faithful companion, Mr. William Law, who, at 
an advanced age, about the year 1761, died in her 
house.(3) In our family he had left the reputation of 
a worthy and pious man, who believed all that he 
professed, and practised all that he enjoined. The 
character of a nonjuror, which he maintained to the 
last, is a sufficient evidence of his principles in church 
and state ; and the sacrifice of interest to conscience 
will be always respectable. His theological writings, 
which our domestic connection has tempted me to 
peruse, preserve an imperfect sort of life, and I can 
pronounce with more confidence and knowledge on 
the merits of the author. His last compositions are 
darkly tinctured by the incomprehensible visions 
of Jacob Behmen ; and his discourse on the ab- 
solute unlawfulness of stage-entertainments is some- 
times quoted for a ridiculous intemperance of sen- 
timent and language. — " The actors and spectators 
must all be damned : the playhouse is the porch of 



CHAP. I. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. '27 

Hell, the place of the Devil's abode, where he holds 
his filthy court of evil spirits : a play is the Devil's 
triumph, a sacrifice performed to his glory, as much 
as in the heathen temples of Bacchus or Venus, 
&c. &c." But these sallies of religious phrensy 
must not extinguish the praise, which is due to 
Mr. William Law as a wit and a scholar. His ar- 
gument on topics of less absurdity is specious and 
acute, his manner is lively, his style forcible and 
clear ; and, had not his vigorous mind been clouded 
by enthusiasm, he might be ranked with the most 
agreeable and ingenious writers of the times. While 
the Bangorian controversy was a fashionable theme, 
he entered the lists on the subject of Christ's 
kingdom, and the authority of the priesthood : 
against the plain account of the sacrament of the 
Lord's Supper he resumed the combat with Bishop 
Hoadley, the object of Whig idolatry and Tory 
abhorrence ; and at every weapon of attack and 
defence, the nonjuror, on the ground which is 
common to both, approves himself at least equal 
to the prelate. On the appearance of the Fable of 
the Bees, he drew his pen against the licentious 
doctrine that private vices are public benefits, and 
morality as well as religion must join in his applause, 
Mr. Law's master-work, the Serious Calif is still 
read as a popular and powerful book of devotion. 
His precepts are rigid, but they are founded on the 
gospel : his satire is sharp, but it is drawn from the 
knowledge of human life ; and many of his portraits 
are not unworthy of the pen of La Bruyere. If he 
finds a spark of piety in his reader's mind, he will 
soon kindle it to a flame ; and a philosopher must 



98 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. I. 

allow that he exposes, with equal severity and truth, 
the strange contradiction between the faith and 

practice of the Christian world. Under the names 
of Flavia and Miranda he has admirably described 
my two aunts — the heathen and the Christian 
sister.* 

My father, Edward Gibbon, was born in October, 
1707 : at the age of thirteen he could scarcely feel 
that he was disinherited by act of parliament ; and, 
as he advanced towards manhood, new prospects 
of fortune opened to his view. A parent is most 
attentive to supply in his children the deficiencies 
of which he is conscious in himself: my grand- 
father's knowledge was derived from a strong un- 
derstanding, and the experience of the ways of 
men 5 but my father enjoyed the benefits of a liberal 
education as a scholar and a gentleman. At West- 
minster School, and afterwards at Emanuel College 
in Cambridge, he passed through a regular course 
of academical discipline ; and the care of his learning 
and morals was entrusted to his private tutor, the 
same Mr. William Law. But the mind of a saint 
is above or below the present world ; and while 
the pupil proceeded on his travels, the tutor re- 
mained at Putney, the much-honoured friend and 
spiritual director of the whole family. My father 
resided some time at Paris to acquire the fashion- 



* These characters are too long fair in his estimate of Law ; but his 
for insertion in the notes. Serious admission thai the asceticism oi' 
Call, ch. 7,8,9. Law was founded on the gospel, 
On the life and writings of Mr. was biassed, no doubt, 03 his dis- 
Law, seeNicholls' Literary Anec- inclination to allow genuine Christ 
dotes, i\. 516. tianitj to have am claim to be con- 
Gibbon, on the whole, has been sidered as rational religion. — M. 



CHAP. I. My LIFE AND WRITINGS. 29 

able exercises ; and as his temper was warm and 
social, he indulged in those pleasures for which 
the strictness of his former education had given 
him a keener relish. He afterwards visited several 
provinces of France ; but his excursions were nei- 
ther long nor remote; and the slender knowledge, 
which he had gained of the French language, was 
gradually obliterated. His passage through Be- 
sancon is marked by a singular consequence in the 
chain of human events. In a dangerous illness 
Mr. Gibbon was attended, at his own request, by 
one of his kinsmen of the name of Acton, the 
younger brother of a younger brother, who had 
applied himself to the study of physic. During the 
slow recovery of his patient, the physician himself 
was attacked by the malady of love : he married 
his mistress, renounced his country and religion, 
settled at Besancon, and became the father of three 
sons ; the eldest of whom, General Acton, is con- 
spicuous in Europe as the principal Minister of the 
King of the Two Sicilies. By an uncle whom 
another stroke of fortune had transplanted to 
Leghorn, he was educated in the naval service of 
the Emperor ; and his valour and conduct in the 
command of the Tuscan frigates protected the 
retreat of the Spaniards from Algiers. On my 
father's return to England he was chosen, in the 
general election of 1734, to serve in parliament for 
the borough of Petersfield; a burgage tenure, of 
which my grandfather possessed a weighty share, 
till he alienated (I know not why) such important 
property. In the opposition to Sir Robert Walpole 
and the Pelhams, prejudice and society connected 



oO MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 

his son with the Tories, — shall I say Jacobites ; 
or, as they were pleased to style themselves, the 
country gentlemen? With them he gave many a 
vote ; with them he drank many a bottle. With- 
out acquiring the fame of an orator or a statesman, 
he eagerly joined in the great opposition, which, 
after a seven years' chase, hunted down Sir Robert 
AValpole : and in the pursuit of an unpopular 
minister, he gratified a private revenge against the 
oppressor of his family in the South Sea perse- 
cution. 



NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 

No. 1. page 19. 

In the Autobiography of Sir Egerton Brydges appears a letter 
from Gibbon to that gentleman, who was his cousin, and had written 
some articles relating to their common genealogy in the " Gentleman's 
Magazine," 1788. On this letter Sir Egerton observes: — "It is a 
very unaccountable thing that Gibbon was so ignorant of the immediate 
branch of his family whence he sprung. They had been entered in 
the visitation book of Kent by the heralds in 16G3 ; but Matthew, the 
historian's great-grandfather, was then only about twenty-one years old. 
His elder half-brother, Thomas, was then married to a sister of Sir 
William Rooke, of Horton. Their father, Thomas, survived till about 
1G84, being then more than eighty years old. lie had married a third 
wife, and removed to Hartlip, near Sittingbournc, her property. lie 
probably resigned the residence at West Cliff to his son Thomas. 1 
can trace no descendants of Thomas, the son, beyond the end of that 
century ; perhaps they fell into obscurity. I never heard any tradition of 
them." Brydges' Autobiography, 1. 237. 

Gibbon had not the courage to give to the world his " Auto- 
biography," during his life, lie was a wonderful man ; but he had many 

Vanities, ami .some weaknesses. Colniau lias given ;i curious por- 
trait of him, as inserted in a note oi' Croker's Boswell. Rich as he 



CHAP. I. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 31 

was in erudition, and surely in genius — for what but genius could 
have put together in so luminous a manner such an incredible extent 
of chaotic materials? — he yet was in his manners and person a finical 
coxcomb. He lived in an age of ceremonials, which have now passed 
away ; and he had a silly desire to be thought a man of fashion and 
a fine gentleman ; a mean ambition for a man of such a splendid and ac- 
complished mind. But these little passions were superseded by more 
noble ones ; and he retired with an elevated courage to Lausanne to 
spend his latter days in literature and his own thoughts, amid the beau- 
tiful scenery of Switzerland, and on the banks of the sublime Geneva 
lake. His Memoirs are pleasing, and will always be an instructive re- 
cord of indefatigable literary toil ; but they are not, to my taste, of the 
highest class of memoirs : they partake a little of the quaintness of 
the author's manners ; he appears too much in his full dress. They 
want energy and simplicity, and frankness and high bursts of eloquence. 
His father appears to have been a vain man, of feeble resolution and 
morbid feelings. He was himself vain of his birth, but he knew little of 
the history of his family beyond his grandfather ; his great-grandfather 
having moved out of Kent, where all his ancestors had lived, the link 
was nearly lost. "When young, I suppose, he had no curiosity about 
those things ; for my father, when he dined at Wootton, about 1761, 
could have given him the whole history. He would have been interested 
by the story of the derivation of old John Randolph, the American 
president, whose death has been announced within the present month 
(July, 1833). I do not recollect that the historian mentions the con- 
nexion of his family with the Yorkes (?), of whom he would have been 
justly proud. Charles Yorke, who died at the moment of accepting 
the seals of chancellor (1770), was a man of beautifully intellectual 
character. Lord Chancellor Hardwicke's mother was, as I have said 
before, a Gibbon, and the widow of my great-grandfather, Edward 
Gibbon, who was her cousin. I have a few letters" of Charles Yorke 
to my father, but they are of no importance. Brydges' Autobiography, 
11. 17. 

No. 2. page 24. 

If we blame the conduct of parliament towards these unhappy men, 
we shall find that their contemporaries also complained of it. But it 
was for the exactly opposite reason. We may think such proceedings 
harsh and cruel : they thought them shamefully lenient. Petitions 
had been pouring in from all parts of the country, praying for " con- 
dign punishment " on these " monsters of pride and covetousness," — 
" the cannibals of Change Alley," — " the infamous betrayers of their 
country." One worthy representative laments the sad grievance that, 
after all, there will be nobody's blood shed ; and in pamphlets of the 



32 MEMOIRS OP CHAP. I. 

day, T read such expressions as, " If you ask what monsters as they 
" arc should be done with, then the answer is short and easy — bang 
"them! for, whatever they deserve, 1 would have no new tortures 
■' invented, nor any new deaths devised. In this I think I show inode- 
•' ration. Let them only be hanged, but hanged speedily." Lord 
Mahon, p. 33. 

No. 3. page 26. 

Gibbon mentions- an interview with Mrs. Hester Gihbon in a letter to 
hi.s mother-in-law. 

" Guess my surprise, when Mrs. Gibbon of Northamptonshire sud- 
denly communicated her arrival. I immediately went to Surrey-street, 
where she lodged ; but though it was no more than half an hour after 
nine, the Saint had finished her evening devotions, and was already- 
retired to rest. Yesterday morning (by appointment) I breakfasted 
with her at eight o'clock, dined with her to-day at two in Newman-street, 
and am just returned from setting her down. She is, in truth, a very 
great curiosity : her dress and figure exceed any thing we had at the 
masquerade : her language and ideas belong to the last century. How- 
ever, in point of religion she was rational ; that is to say, silent. I do 
not believe that she asked a single question, or said the least thing con- 
cerning it. To me she behaved with great cordiality, and in Iter way 
expressed a great regard." 



MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 33 



CHAP. II. 

Mr. Gibbon's birth ; he is put under the care of Mr. Kirkby; 
some Account of Mr. Kirkby. — The Author is sent to 
Dr. Wooddesori 's School, whence he is removed on the death 
of his Mother. — Affectionate Observations on his Aunt, 
Mrs. Catharine Porten. — Is entered at Westminster School; 
is removed on account of ill health, and afterwards placed 
under the care of the Rev. Mr. Francis. 

I was born at Putney, in the county of Surry, the 
27th of April, O. S., in the year one thousand seven 
hundred and thirty-seven ; the first child of the 
marriage of Edward Gibbon, Esq. and of Judith 
Porten. 1 My lot might have been that of a slave, 
a savage, or a peasant ; nor can I reflect without 
pleasure on the bounty of Nature, which cast my 
birth in a free and civilized country, in an age of 
science and philosophy, in a family of honourable 
rank, and decently endowed with the gifts of 
fortune. From my birth I have enjoyed the right 
of primogeniture ; but I was succeeded by five 
brothers and one sister, all of whom were snatched 

1 The union to which I owe my birth was a marriage of inclination 
and esteem. Mr. James Porten, a merchant of London, resided with 
his family at Putney, in a house adjoining to the bridge and church- 
yard, where I have passed many happy hours of my childhood. He 
left one son (the late Sir Stanier Porten) and three daughters : Ca- 
therine, who preserved her maiden name, and of whom I shall hereafter 
speak ; another daughter married Mr. Darrel of Richmond, and left 
two sons, Edward and Robert : the youngest of the three sisters was 
Judith, my mother. — S. 



31 MEMOIRS OF ( HAP. II. 

away in their infancy. My five brothers, whose 
names may be found in the parish register of 
Putney, I shall not pretend to lament : but from 
my childhood to the present hour I have deeply 
and sincerely regretted my sister, whose life was 
somewhat prolonged, and whom I remember to 
have seen an amiable infant. The relation of a 
brother and a sister, especially if they do not marry, 
appears to me of a very singular nature. It is a 
familiar and tender friendship with a female, much 
about our own age ; an affection perhaps softened 
by the secret influence of sex, but pure from any 
mixture of sensual desire, the sole species of 
Platonic love that can be indulged with truth, and 
without danger. 

At the general election of 1741* Mr. Gibbon and 
Mr. Delme stood an expensive and successful 
contest at Southampton, against Mr. Dummer and 
Mr. Henly, afterwards Lord Chancellor and Earl 
of Northington. The Whig candidates had a ma- 
jority of the resident voters ; but the corporation 
was firm in the Tory interest : a sudden creation of 
one hundred and seventy new freemen turned the 
scale; and a supply was readily obtained of respect- 
able volunteers, who flocked from all parts of 
England to support the cause of their political 
friends. The new parliament opened with the 
victory of an opposition, which was fortified by 
strong clamour and strange coalitions. From the 
event of the first divisions, Sir Robert Walpole 
perceived that he could no longer lead a majority 
in the House of Commons, and prudently resigned 
(after a dominion of one and twenty years) the 



CHAP. II. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 35 

guidance of the state (1742). But the fall of an 
unpopular minister was not succeeded, according to 
general expectation, by a millennium of happiness 
and virtue : some courtiers lost their places, some 
patriots lost their characters, Lord Orford's offences 
vanished with his power ; and after a short vibra- 
tion, the Pelham government was fixed on the old 
basis of the Whig aristocracy. In the year 1745, 
the throne and the constitution were attacked by a 
rebellion, which does not reflect much honour on 
the national spirit ; since the English friends of the 
Pretender wanted courage to join his standard, and 
his enemies (the bulk of the people) allowed him 
to advance into the heart of the kingdom. With- 
out daring, perhaps without desiring, to aid the 
rebels, my father invariably adhered to the Tory 
opposition. In the most critical season he accepted, 
for the service of the party, the office of alderman 
in the city of London : but the duties were so re- 
pugnant to his inclination and habits, that he re- 
signed his gown at the end of a few months. The 
second parliament in which he sate was prematurely 
dissolved (1747) : and as he was unable or unwilling 
to maintain a second contest for Southampton, the 
life of the senator expired in that dissolution. 

The death of a new-born child before that of its 
parents may seem an unnatural, but it is strictly a 
probable event : since of any given number the 
greater part are extinguished before their ninth 
year, before they possess the faculties of the mind 
or body. Without accusing the profuse waste or 
imperfect workmanship of Nature, I shall only 
d 2 



MEMOIRS 01 CHAP. If. 

observe, thai this unfavourable chance was multi- 
plied against my infant existence. So feeble was 

my constitution, so precarious my life, that, in the 
baptism of my brothers, my lather's prudence suc- 
cessively repeated my christian name of Edward, 
that, in case of the departure of the eldest son, this 
patronymic appellation might be still perpetuated 
in the family. 

Uno avulso non deficit alter. 

To preserve and to rear so frail a being, the most 
tender assiduity was scarcely sufficient ; and my 
mother's attention was somewhat diverted by her 
frequent pregnancies, by an exclusive passion for 
her husband, and by the dissipation of the world, in 
which his taste and authority obliged her to mingle. 
But the maternal office was supplied by my aunt, 
Mrs. Catherine Porten ; at whose name I feel a tear 
of gratitude trickling down my cheek. A life of 
celibacy transferred her vacant affection to her 
sister's first child : my weakness excited her pity ; 
her attachment was fortified by labour and success : 
and if there be any, as I trust there are some, who 
rejoice that I live, to that dear and excellent woman 
they must hold themselves indebted. Many anxious 
and solitary days did she consume in the patient 
trial of every mode of relief and amusement. Many 
wakeful nights did she sit by my bedside in trembling 
expectation that each hour Mould be my last. 
Of the various and frequent disorders of my child- 
hood my own recollection is dark ; nor do I wish 
to expatiate on so disgusting a topic. Suffice it to 
say, that while every practitioner, from Sloane and 



CHAP. II. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 3j 

Ward to the Chevalier Taylor*, was successively 
summoned to torture or relieve me, the care of my 
mind was too frequently neglected for that of my 
health : compassion always suggested an excuse 
for the indulgence of the master, or the idleness of 
the pupil ; and the chain of my education was 
broken, as often as I was recalled from the school 
of learning to the bed of sickness. 

As soon as the use of speech had prepared my 
infant reason for the admission of knowledge, I 
was taught the arts of reading, writing, and arith- 
metic. So remote is the date, so vague is the 
memory of their origin in myself, that, were not 
the error corrected by analogy, I should be tempted 
to conceive them as innate. In my childhood I 
was praised for the readiness, with which I could 
multiply and divide, by memory alone, two sums of 
several figures : such praise encouraged my grow- 
ing talent ; and had I persevered in this line of 
application, I might have acquired some fame in 
mathematical studies. 

After this previous institution at home, or at a 
day-school at Putney, I was delivered at the age 
of seven into the hands of Mr. John Kirkby, who 
exercised about eighteen months the office of my 
domestic tutor. His own words, which I shall here 



* A quack oculist, on whom Horace Walpole wrote the following 
epigram : — 

" Why Taylor the quack calls himself Chevalier, 
"Tis not easy a reason to render ; 
Unless he would own, what his practice makes clear, 
That at best he is but a Pretender." 

The Pretender went by the name of the Chevalier St. George, Letters 
to Sir Horace Mann, vol.iii. p. 348. — M. 

D S 



MEMOIRS 01 ( HAP. EI. 

transcribe, inspire in his favour a sentiment of pity 
and esteem. — "During my abode in my native 
county of Cumberland, in quality of an indigent 

curate, I used now and then in a summer, when 
the pleasantness of the season invited, to take a so- 
litary walk to the sea-shore, which lies about two 
miles from the town where I lived. Here I would 
amuse myself, one while in viewing at large the 
agreeable prospect which surrounded me, and an- 
other while (confining my sight to nearer objects) 
in admiring the vast variety of beautiful shells, 
thrown upon the beach ; some of the choicest of 
which I always picked up, to divert my little ones 
upon my return. One time among the rest, taking 
such a journey in my head, I sat down upon the 
declivity of the beach with my face to the sea, 
which was now come up within a few yards of my 
feet ; when immediately the sad thought of the 
wretched condition of my family, and the unsuc- 
cessfulness of all endeavours to amend it, came 
crowding into my mind, which drove me into 
a deep melancholy, and ever and anon forced tears 
from my eyes." Distress at last forced him to 
leave the country. His learning and virtue intro- 
duced him to my father; and at Putney he might 
have found at least a temporary shelter, had not an 
act of indiscretion again driven him into the world. 
One day reading prayers in the parish church, he 
most unluckily forgot the name of King George : 
his patron, a loyal subject, dismissed him with some 
reluctance, and a decent reward; and how the 
pooi- man ended his days 1 have never been able to 
Learn. Mr. John Kirkbyis the author of two small 



CHAP. II. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 39 

volumes ; the Life of Automathes (London, 1745), 
and an English and Latin Grammar (London, 
1746) ; which, as a testimony of gratitude, he de- 
dicated (November 5th, 1745) to my father. The 
books are before me : from them the pupil may 
judge the preceptor ; and, upon the whole, his 
judgment will not be unfavourable. The grammar 
is executed with accuracy and skill, and I know 
not whether any better existed at the time in our 
language: but the Life of Automathes aspires to the 
honours of a philosophical fiction. It is the story 
of a youth, the son of a shipwrecked exile, who 
lives alone on a desert island from infancy to the 
age of manhood. A hind is his nurse ; he inherits 
a cottage, with many useful and curious instru- 
ments ; some ideas remain of the education of 
his two first years ; some arts are borrowed from 
the beavers of a neighbouring lake ; some truths 
are revealed in supernatural visions. With these 
helps, and his own industry, Automathes becomes 
a self-taught though speechless philosopher, who 
had investigated with success his own mind, the 
natural world, the abstract sciences, and the great 
principles of morality and religion. The author 
is not entitled to the merit of invention, since 
he has blended the English story of Robinson 
Crusoe with the Arabian romance of Hai Ebn 
Yokhdan, which he might have read in the Latin 
version of Pocock. In the Automathes I cannot 
praise either the depth of thought or elegance of 
style ; but the book is not devoid of entertainment 
or instruction ; and among several interesting pas- 
sages, I would select the discovery of fire, which 
d 4 



40 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. II. 

produces by accidental mischief the discovery of 
conscience. A man who had thought so much on 
the subjects of language and education was surely 
no ordinary preceptor : my childish years, and his 
hasty departure, prevented me from enjoying the 
full benefit of his lessons ; but they enlarged my 
knowledge of arithmetic, and left me a clear im- 
pression of the English and Latin rudiment-. 

In my ninth year (January, 17±6), in a lucid in- 
terval of comparative health, my father adopted the 
convenient and customary mode of English educa- 
tion; and I was sent to Kingston-upon-Thames, to 
a school of about seventy boys, which was kept by 
Dr. Wooddeson and his assistants. Every time I 
have since passed over Putney Common, I have 
always noticed the spot where my mother, as we 
drove along in the coach, admonished me that I 
was now going into the world, and must learn to 
think and act for myself. The expression may ap- 
pear ludicrous ; yet there is not, in the course of 
life, a more remarkable change than the removal of 
a child from the luxury and freedom of a wealthy 
house, to the frugal diet and strict subordination 
of a school ; from the tenderness of parents, and 
the obsequiousness of servants, to the rude fami- 
liarity of his equals, the insolent tyranny of his 
seniors, and the rod, perhaps, of a cruel and capri- 
cious pedagogue. Such hardships may steel the 
mind and body against the injuries of fortune; but 
my timid reserve was astonished by the crowd ami 
tumult of the school; the want of strength and ac- 
tivity disqualified me for the sports <>i* the play- 
field ; nor have I forgotten how often in the year 



CHAP. II. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 41 

forty-six I was reviled and buffeted for the sins of 
my Tory ancestors. By the common methods of 
discipline, at the expense of many tears and some 
blood, I purchased the knowledge of the Latin syn- 
tax: and not long since I was possessed of the dirty 
volumes of Phgedrus and Cornelius Nepos, which 
I painfully construed and darkly understood. The 
choice of these authors is not injudicious. The 
lives of Cornelius Nepos, the friend of Atticus and 
Cicero, are composed in the style of the purest 
age : his simplicity is elegant, his brevity copious : 
he exhibits a series of men and manners; and with 
such illustrations, as every pedant is not indeed 
qualified to give, this classic biographer may ini- 
tiate a young student in the history of Greece and 
Rome. The use of fables or apologues has been 
approved in every age from ancient India to mo- 
dern Europe. They convey in familiar images the 
truths of morality and prudence ; and the most 
childish understanding (I advert to the scruples of 
Rousseau) will not suppose either that beasts do 
speak, or that men may lie. A fable represents the 
genuine characters of animals; and a skilful master 
might extract from Pliny and Buffon some pleasing 
lessons of natural history, a science well adapted 
to the taste and capacity of children. The Latinity 
of Phaedrus is not exempt from an alloy of the 
silver age ; but his manner is concise, terse, and 
sententious : the Thracian slave discreetly breathes 
the spirit of a freeman ; and when the text is sound, 
the style is perspicuous. But his fables, after a 
long oblivion, were first published by Peter Pithou, 
from a corrupt manuscript. The labours of fifty 



J J MEMOIRS OJ CHAP. II. 

editors confess the defects of the copy, as well as 
the value of the original ; and the school-boy may 
have been whipt for misapprehending a passage, 
which Bentley could not restore, and which Bar- 
man could not explain. 

My studies were too frequently interrupted by 
sickness ; and after a real or nominal residence at 
Kingston school of near two years, I was finally 
recalled (December, 1747) by my mother's death, 
which was occasioned, in her thirty-eighth year, 
by the consequences of her last labour. I was too 
young to feel the importance of my loss ; and the 
image of her person and conversation is faintly im- 
printed in my memory. The affectionate heart of 
my aunt, Catherine Porten, bewailed a sister and 
a friend; but my poor father was inconsolable, and 
the transport of grief seemed to threaten his life or 
his reason. I can never forget the scene of our 
first interview, some weeks after the fatal event ; 
the awful silence, the room hung with black, the 
mid-day tapers, his sighs and tears ; his praises of 
my mother, a saint in heaven ; his solemn adju- 
ration that I would cherish her memory and imitate 
her virtues ; and the fervour with which he kissed 
and blessed me as the sole surviving pledge of their 
loves. The storm of passion insensibly subsided 
into calmer melancholy. At a convivial meeting 
of his friends, Mr. Gibbon might affect or enjoy a 
gleam of cheerfulness; but his plan of* happiness 
was for ever destroyed : and after the loss of his 
companion he was left alone in a world, of which 
the business and pleasures were to him irksome or 
insipid. After some unsuccessful trials he re- 



CHAP. II. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 43 

noimced the tumult of London and the hospitality 
of Putney, and buried himself in the rural or rather 
rustic solitude of Buriton ; from which, during 
several years, he seldom emerged. 

As far back as I can remember, the house near 
Putney-bridge and church-yard, of my maternal 
grandfather, appears in the light of my proper and 
native home. It was there that I was allowed to 
spend the greatest part of my time, in sickness or 
in health, during my school vacations and my pa- 
rents' residence in London, and finally after my 
mother's death. Three months after that event, 
in the spring of 1 748, the commercial ruin of her 
father, Mr. James Porten, was accomplished and 
declared. As his effects were not sold, nor the 
house evacuated, till the Christmas following, I 
enjoyed during the whole year the society of my 
aunt, without much consciousness of her impending 
fate. I feel a melancholy pleasure in repeating my 
obligations to that excellent woman, Mrs. Cathe- 
rine Porten, the true mother of my mind as well as 
of my health.(l) Her natural good sense was im- 
proved by the perusal of the best books in the 
English language; and if her reason was sometimes 
clouded by prejudice, her sentiments were never 
disguised by hypocrisy or affectation. Her indul- 
gent tenderness, the frankness of her temper, and 
my innate rising curiosity, soon removed all dis- 
tance between us : like friends of an equal age, we 
freely conversed on every topic, familiar or abstruse j 
and it was her delight and reward to observe the 
first shoots of my young ideas. Pain and languor 
were often soothed by the voice of instruction and 



•11 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. II. 

amusement ; and to her kind lessons I ascribe my 
early and invincible love of reading, which I would 
not exchange for the treasures of India. I should 
perhaps be astonished, were it possible to ascertain 
the date, at which a favourite tale was engraved, 
by frequent repetition, in my memory: the Cavern 
of the Winds; the Palace of Felicity ; and the fatal 
moment, at the end of three months or centuries, 
when Prince Adolphus is overtaken by Time, who 
had worn out so many pair of wings in the pursuit. 
Before I left Kingston school I was well ac- 
quainted with Pope's Homer and the Arabian 
Nights Entertainments, two books which will 
always please by the moving picture of human 
manners and specious miracles : nor was I then 
capable of discerning that Pope's translation is a 
portrait endowed with every merit, excepting that 
of likeness to the original. The verses of Pope 
accustomed my ear to the sound of poetic harmony: 
in the death of Hector, and the shipwreck of 
Ulysses, I tasted the new emotions of terror and 
pity ; and seriously disputed with my aunt on the 
vices and virtues of the heroes of the Trojan war. 
From Pope's Homer to Dryden's Virgil was an 
easy transition ; but I know not how, from some 
fault in the author, the translator, or the reader, 
the pious iEneas did not so forcibly seize on my 
imagination ; and I derived more pleasure from 
Ovid's Metamorphoses, especially in the fall of 
Phaeton, and the speeches of Ajax and Ulysses. 
My grandfather's flight unlocked the door of a 
tolerable library; and 1 turned over many English 
pages of poetry and romance, of history ami travels. 



CHAP. II. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 45 

Where a title attracted my eye, without fear or 
awe I snatched the volume from the shelf; and 
Mrs. Porten, who indulged herself in moral and re- 
ligious speculations, was more prone to encourage 
than to check a curiosity above the strength of a 
boy. This year (1748), the twelfth of my age, I 
shall note as the most propitious to the growth of 
my intellectual stature. 

The relics of my grandfather's fortune afforded 
a bare annuity for his own maintenance ; and 
his daughter, my worthy aunt, who had already 
passed her fortieth year, was left destitute. Her 
noble spirit scorned a life of obligation and de- 
pendance ; and after revolving several schemes, 
she preferred the humble industry of keeping a 
boarding-house for Westminster-school 2 , where she 
laboriously earned a competence for her old age. 
This singular opportunity of blending the advan- 
tages of private and public education decided my 
father. After the Christmas holidays, in January, 
1749, I accompanied Mrs. Porten to her new house 
in College-street ; and was immediately entered in 
the school, of which Dr. John Nicoll was at that 
time head-master. At first I was alone : but my 
aunt's resolution was praised ; her character was 
esteemed ; her friends were numerous and active : 
in the course of some years she became the mother 
of forty or fifty boys, for the most part of family 
and fortune ; and as her primitive habitation was 
too narrow, she built and occupied a spacious man- 



2 It is said in the family, that she was principally induced to this 
undertaking by her affection for her nephew, whose weak constitution 
required her constant and unremitted attention. — S. 



jii viemoiiis oi chap. rr. 

sion in Dean's Yard. I shall always be ready to 
join in the common opinion, that our public schools, 
which have produced so many eminent characters, 
are the best adapted to the genius and constitution 
of the English people. A boy of spirit may acquire 
a previous and practical experience of the world ; 
and his playfellows may be the future friends of his 
heart or his interest. In a free intercourse with 
his equals, the habits of truth, fortitude, and pru- 
dence will insensibly be matured. Birth and riches 
are measured by the standard of personal merit ; 
and the mimic scene of a rebellion has displayed, 
in their true colours, the ministers and patriots of 
the rising generation. Our seminaries of learning 
do not exactly correspond with the precept of a 
Spartan king, " that the child should be instructed 
in the arts, which will be useful to the man ; " since 
a finished scholar may emerge from the head of 
Westminster or Eton, in total ignorance of the bu- 
siness and conversation of English gentlemen in 
the latter end of the eighteenth century. But 
these schools may assume the merit of teaching all 
that they pretend to teach, the Latin and Greek 
languages : they deposit in the hands of a disciple 
the keys of two valuable chests ; nor can he com- 
plain, if they are afterwards lost or neglected by 
his own fault. The necessity of leading in equal 
ranks so many unequal powers of capacity and ap- 
plication, will prolong to eight or ten years the ju- 
venile studies, which might be dispatched in half 
that time by the skilful master of a single pupil. 
Yet even the repetition of exercise ami discipline 
contributes to fix in a vacant mind the verbal 



CHAP. II. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 47 

science of grammar and prosody : and the private 
or voluntary student, who possesses the sense and 
spirit of the classics, may offend, by a false quan- 
tity, the scrupulous ear of a well-flogged critic. 
For myself, I must be content with a very small 
share of the civil and literary fruits of a public 
school. In the space of two years (1749, 1750), 
interrupted by danger and debility, I painfully 
climbed into the third form ; and my riper age was 
left to acquire the beauties of the Latin, and the 
rudiments of the Greek tongue. Instead of auda- 
ciously mingling in the sports, the quarrels, and the 
connections of our little world, I was still cherished 
at home under the maternal wing of my aunt ; 
and my removal from Westminster long preceded 
the approach of manhood. 

The violence and variety of my complaints, 
which had excused my frequent absence from 
Westminster- school, at length engaged Mrs. Por- 
ten, with the advice of physicians, to conduct me 
to Bath : at the end of the Michaelmas vacation 
(1750) she quitted me with reluctance, and I re- 
mained several months under the care of a trusty 
maid-servant. A strange nervous affection, which 
alternately contracted my legs, and produced, 
without any visible symptoms, the most excru- 
ciating pain, was ineffectually opposed by the 
various methods of bathing and pumping. From 
Bath I was transported to Winchester, to the house 
of a physician ; and after the failure of his medical 
skill, we had again recourse to the virtues of the 
Bath waters. During the intervals of these fits, I 
moved with my father to Buriton and Putney ; 



48 MEMOIRS OF < HAP. II. 

ami a short unsuccessful trial was attempted to 
renew my attendance at Westminster-school. But 
my infirmities could not be reconciled with the 
hours and discipline of a public seminary ; and in- 
stead of a domestic tutor, who might have watched 
the favourable moments, and gently advanced the 
progress of my learning, my father was too easily 
content with sucb occasional teachers as the dif- 
ferent places of my residence could supply. I was 
never forced, and seldom was I persuaded, to admit 
these lessons : yet I read with a clergyman at Bath 
some odes of Horace, and several episodes of 
Virgil, which gave me an imperfect and transient 
enjoyment of the Latin poets. It might now be 
apprehended that I should continue for life an il- 
literate cripple : but, as I approached my sixteenth 
year, Nature displayed in my favour her mysterious 
energies : my constitution was fortified and fixed ; 
and my disorders, instead of growing with my 
growth and strengthening with my strength, most 
wonderfully vanished. I have never possessed or 
abused the insolence of health : but since that time 
few persons have been more exempt from real or 
imaginary ills ; and, till I am admonished by the 
gout, the reader will no more be troubled with the 
history of my bodily complaints. My unexpected 
recovery again encouraged the hope of my edu- 
cation ; and I was placed at Esher, in Surry, in the 
house of the Reverend Mr. Philip Francis, in a 
pleasant spot, which promised to unite the various 
benefits of air, exercise, and study (January, 1;.VJ\ 
The translator of Horace might have taught me 
to relish the Latin poets, had not my friends dis- 



CHAP. II. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 49 

covered in a few weeks, that he preferred the 
pleasures of London to the instruction of his 
pupils. My father's perplexity at this time, rather 
than his prudence, was urged to embrace a sin- 
gular and desperate measure. Without preparation 
or delay he carried me to Oxford ; and I was 
matriculated in the university as a gentleman- 
commoner of Magdalen college, before I had ac- 
complished the fifteenth year of my age (April 3, 
1752). 

The curiosity, which had been implanted in my 
infant mind, was still alive and active ; but my 
reason was not sufficiently informed to understand 
the value, or to lament the loss, of three precious 
years from my entrance at Westminster to my ad- 
mission at Oxford. Instead of repining at my long 
and frequent confinement to the chamber or the 
couch, I secretly rejoiced in those infirmities, which 
delivered me from the exercises of the school, and 
the society of my equals. As often as I was tole- 
rably exempt from danger and pain, reading, free 
desultory reading, was the employment and comfort 
of my solitary hours. At Westminster, my aunt 
sought only to amuse and indulge me ; in my 
stations at Bath and Winchester, at Buriton and 
Putney, a false compassion respected my sufferings ; 
and I was allowed, without controul or advice, to 
gratify the wanderings of an unripe taste. My in- 
discriminate appetite subsided by degrees in the 
historic line : and since philosophy has exploded all 
innate ideas and natural propensities, I must ascribe 
this choice to the assiduous perusal of the Universal 
History, as the octavo volumes successively ap- 

E 



50 MEMOIRS 01 CHAP. II. 

peared. This unequal work, and a treatise of 
Hearne, the Ductor historicus, referred and intro- 
duced me to the (J reck and Roman historians, to 
as many at least as were accessible to an English 
reader. All that I could find were greedily de- 
voured, from Littlebury's lame Herodotus, and 
Spelman's valuable Xenophon, to the pompous 
folios of Gordon's Tacitus, and a ragged Procopius 
of the beginning of the last century. The cheap 
acquisition of so much knowledge confirmed my 
dislike to the study of languages ; and I argued 
with Mrs. Porten, that, were I master of Greek and 
Latin, I must interpret to myself in English the 
thoughts of the original, and that such extemporary 
versions must be inferior to the elaborate trans- 
lations of professed scholars ; a silly sophism, which 
could not easily be confuted by a person ignorant 
of any other language than her own. From the 
ancient I leaped to the modern world : many crude 
lumps of Speed, Rapin, Mezeray, Davila, Machi- 
avel, Father Paul, Bower, &c. I devoured like so 
many novels ; and I swallowed with the same vo- 
racious appetite the descriptions of India and China, 
of Mexico and Peru. 

My first introduction to the historic scenes, 
which have since engaged so many years of m\ 
life, must be ascribed to an accident. In the summer 
of 17-51, I accompanied my father on a visit to Mr. 
Iloare's, in Wiltshire; but I was less delighted 
with the beauties of Stourhead, than with disco- 
vering in the library a common book, the Continu- 
ation ofEchard's Roman History, which is indeed 
executed with more skill ami taste than the previous 



CHAP. II. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 51 

work. To me the reigns of the successors of Con- 
stantine were absolutely new ; and I was immersed 
in the passage of the Goths over the Danube, when 
the summons of the dinner-bell reluctantly dragged 
me from my intellectual feast. This transient glance 
served rather to irritate than to appease my curi- 
osity ; and as soon as I returned to Bath I procured 
the second and third volumes of Howel's History 
of the World, which exhibit the Byzantine period 
on a larger scale. Mahomet and his Saracens soon 
fixed my attention ; and some instinct of criticism 
directed me to the genuine sources. Simon Ockley, 
an original in every sense, first opened my eyes ; 
and I was led from one book to another, till 1 had 
ranged round the circle of Oriental history. Before 
I was sixteen, I had exhausted all that could be 
learned in English of the Arabs and Persians, the 
Tartars and Turks ; and the same ardour urged me 
to guess at the French ofD'Herbelot,and to construe 
the barbarous Latin of Pocock's Abulfaragius. Such 
vague and multifarious reading could not teach me 
to think, to write, or to act ; and the only principle, 
that darted a ray of light into the indigested chaos, 
was an early and rational application to the order 
of time and place. The maps of Cellarius and Wells 
imprinted in my mind the picture of ancient geo- 
graphy : from Stranchius I imbibed the elements 
of chronology : the Tables of Helvicus and An- 
derson, the Annals of Usher and Prideaux, distin- 
guished the connection of events, and engraved the 
multitude of names and dates in a clear and indelible 
series. But in the discussion of the first ages I 
overleaped the bounds of modesty and use. In my 
e 2 



52 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 

childish balance I presumed to weigh the systems 
of Scaliger and Petavius, of Marsham and Newton, 

which I could seldom study in the originals ; and 
my sleep has been disturbed by the difficulty of re- 
conciling the Septuagint with the Hebrew compu- 
tation. I arrived at Oxford with a stock of erudition, 
that might have puzzled a doctor, and a degree of 
ignorance, of which a school-boy would have been 
ashamed. 

At the conclusion of this first period of my life 
I am tempted to enter a protest against the trite 
and lavish praise of the happiness of our boyish 
years, which is echoed with so much affectation 
in the world. That happiness I have never known, 
that time I have never regretted ; and were my 
poor aunt still alive, she would bear testimony to 
the early and constant uniformity of my senti- 
ments. It will indeed be replied that / am not a 
competent judge ; that pleasure is incompatible 
with pain ; that joy is excluded from sickness ; 
and that the felicity of a school-boy consists in the 
perpetual motion of thoughtless and playful agility, 
in which I was never qualified to excel. My name, 
it is most true, could never be enrolled among the 
sprightly race, the idle progeny of Eton or West- 
minster, 

" Who foremost might delight to cleave, 
With pliant arm, the glassy wave, 
Or urge the flying ball." 

The poet may gaily describe the short hours of 
recreation; but he forgets the daily tedious labours 
of the school, which is approached each morning 
with anxious and reluctant steps. 



NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 53 



NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 



No. I. page 43. 

Gibbon's grateful attachment to this " excellent woman" is strongly 
expressed in two of his letters on her death : — 

Edward Gibbon, Esq., to the Right Honourable Lord Sheffield. 

Lausanne, May 10th, 1786. 
By the difference, I suppose, of the posts of France and Germany, 
Sir Stanier's letter, though first written, is still on the road, andyour's, 
which I received yesterday morning, brought me the first account of 
poor Mrs.Porten's departure. There are few events that could afflict 
me more deeply, and I have been ever since in a state of mind more 
deserving of your pity than of your reproaches. I certainly am not ig- 
norant that we have nothing better to wish for ourselves than the fate 
of that best-humoured woman, as you very justly style her ; a good 
understanding and an excellent heart, with health, spirits, and a com- 
petency, to live in the midst of her friends till the age of fourscore, and 
then to shut her eyes without pain or remorse. Death can have de- 
prived her only of some years of weakness, perhaps of misery ; and 
for myself, it is surely less painful to lose her at present, than to find 
her on my visit to England next year sinking under the weight of age 
and infirmities, and perhaps forgetful of herself and of the persons once 
the dearest to her. All this is perfectly true : but all these reflections 
will not dispel a thousand sad and tender remembrances that rush upon 
my mind. To her care I am indebted in earliest infancy for the pre- 
servation of my life and health. I was a puny child, neglected by my 
mother, starved by my nurse, and of whose being very little care or 
expectation was entertained ; without her maternal vigilance I should 
either have been in my grave, or imperfectly lived, a crooked ricketty 
monster, a burden to myself and others. To her instructions I owe 
the first rudiments of knowledge, the first exercise of reason, and a 
taste for books, which is still the pleasure and glory of my life ; and 
though she taught me neither language nor science, she was certainly 
the most useful preceptor I ever had. As I grew up, an intercourse of 
thirty years endeared her to me, as the faithful friend and the agreeable 
companion. You have seen with what freedom and confidence we 

e3 



54 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 

lived together, and have often admired her character and conversation, 
winch could alike please the young and the old. All this is now lost, 
finally, irrecoverably lost ! 1 \\ill agree with my Lady, that the im- 
mortality of the soul is at some times a very comfortable doctrine. A 
thousand thanks to her for her constant kind attention to that poor 
woman who is no more. I wish I had as much to applaud, and as little 
to reproach, in my own behaviour towards Mrs. Porten since I left 
England ; and when I reflect that my letters would have soothed and 
comforted her decline, I feel more deeply than I can express, the real 
neglect, and seeming indifference, of my silence. To delay a letter from 
the Wednesday to the Saturday, and then /rom the Saturday to the 
Wednesday, appears a very slight offence ; yet in the repetition of 
such delay, weeks, months, and years will elapse, till the omission may 
become irretrievable, and the consequence mischievous or fatal. After 
a long lethargy, I had roused myself last week, and wrote to the three 
old Ladies, my letter for Mrs. Porten went away last post, Saturday 
night, and yours did not arrive till Monday morning. Sir Stanier w ill 
probably open it, and read the true picture of my sentiments for a 
friend who, when I wrote, was already extinct. There is something 
sad and awful in the thought, yet, on the whole, I am not sorry that 
even this tardy epistle preceded my knowledge of her death : but it did 
not precede (you will observe) the information of her dangerous and 
declining state, which I conveyed in my last letter, and her anxious 
concern that she should never see or hear from me again. This idea, 
and the hard thoughts which you must entertain of me, press so much 
on my mind, that I must frankly acknowledge a strange inexcusable 
supineness, on which I desire you would make no comment, and which 
in some measure may account for my delays in corresponding with 
you. The unpleasant nature of business, and the apprehension of find- 
ing something disagreeable, tempted me to postpone from day to day, 
not only the answering, but even the opening, your penultimate epistle ; 
and when I received your last, yesterday morning, the seal of the 
former was still unbroken. Oblige me so far as to make no reflections ; 
my own may be of service to me hereafter. Thus far (except the last 
sentence) I have run on with a sort of melancholy pleasure, and find 
mj heart much relieved by unfolding it to a friend. And the subject 
so strongly holds me, so much disqualifies me for other discourse, 
cither serious or pleasant, that here I would willingly stop and reserve 
all miscellaneous matter for a second volunteer epistle. But we both 
know how frail are promises, how dangerous are delays, ami there are 
some pecuniary objects on which 1 think it necessary to give yon an 
immediate, though now tardy, explanation. * * * * * 

Adieu. 



NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 55 



Edward Gibbon, Esq., to Sir Stonier Porten, Kensington 

Palace. 

My dear Sir, Lausanne, May 12th, 1786. 

The melancholy event which you have communicated, in your last 
obliging letter of the twenty-fourth of April, might indeed be too na- 
turallv feared and expected. If we consult our reason, we can wish 
nothing better for ourselves than the lot of that dear and valuable 
friend whom we have now lost.* A warm heart, a strong and clear 
understanding, a most invaluable happiness of temper, which showed 
her the agreeable or comfortable side of every object, and every situ- 
ation ; an easy competency, the reward of her own attention ; private 
friendship, general esteem, a mature age, and a placid decline. But ' 
these rational motives of consolation are insufficient to check a thou- 
sand soft and sad remembrances that rush into my mind ; the intimacy 
of a whole life ; of mine, at least, from the earliest dawn of my 
infancy ; the maternal and assiduous care of my health, and afterwards 
of my mind ; the freedom and frequency of our conversations ; the 
regret which I felt in our last separation, and the hope, however faint 
and precarious, of seeing her again. Time alone can reconcile us to 
this irreparable loss, and to his healing power I must recommend your 
grief, as well as my own. I sincerely applaud her very proper and 
natural disposal of her effects, and am proud of the pre-eminence which 
she has allowed me in a list of dear and worthy relations. 

I am too full of a single idea to expatiate, as I should otherwise do, 
on indifferent matters ; yet not totally indifferent to my friends, since 
they relate to my present situation. My health is in general perfectly 
good, and the only drawbacks some occasional visits of the gout, which 
abate, however, in strength, and are grown, I think, less frequent and 
lasting. The life which I lead is temperate and tranquil, and the dis- 
temper itself is not common in the purity and dryness of the climate. 
After a long trial, I can now approve my own choice of retiring to 
Switzerland. I am, dear Sir, most affectionately yours. 



* His aunt, Mrs. Catherine Porten. 



E 4 



56 MEMOIRS OF 



CHAP. III. 

Enters a Gentleman Commoner at Magdalen College, Oxford. 
— Remarks on that University. — Some Account of Mag- 
dalen College. — Character of Dr. Waldegrave, Mr. Gibbon's 
first Tutor. — The Author determines to icrite an History; 
its Subject. — Solution of a Chronological Difficulty. — 
Mr. Gibbon is converted to the Roman Catholic Religion ; 
cites the Examples of Chilling ic or th and Bagle ; their 
Characters. — Mr. Gibbon obliged to leave Oxford. — 
Farther Remarks on the University. 

A traveller, who visits Oxford or Cambridge, is 
surprised and edified by the apparent order and 
tranquillity that prevail in the seats of the English 
muses. In the most celebrated universities of 
Holland, Germany, and Italy, the students, who 
swarm from different countries, are loosely dis- 
persed in private lodgings at the houses of the 
burghers : they dress according to their fancy and 
fortune ; and in the intemperate quarrels of youth 
and wine, their swords, though less frequently 
than of old, are sometimes stained with each 
other's blood, The use of arms is banished from 
our English universities ; the uniform habit of the 
academics, the square cap, and black gown, is 
adapted to the civil and even clerical profession ; 
and from the doctor in divinity to the under- 
graduate, the degrees of learning and age are ex- 
ternally distinguished. Instead of being scattered 
in a town, the students of Oxford and Cambridge 
arc united in colleges ; their maintenance is pro- 



CHAP. III. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 57 

vided at their own expense, or that of the 
founders ; and the stated hours of the hall and 
chapel represent the discipline of a regular, and, 
as it were, a religious community. The eyes of 
the traveller are attracted by the size or beauty 
of the public edifices : and the principal colleges 
appear to be so many palaces, which a liberal 
nation has erected and endowed for the habitation 
of science. My own introduction to the univer- 
sity of Oxford forms a new aera in my life ; and at 
the distance of forty years I still remember my 
first emotions of surprise and satisfaction. In my 
fifteenth year I felt myself suddenly raised from a 
boy to a man : the persons, whom I respected as 
my superiors in age and academical rank, enter- 
tained me with every mark of attention and 
civility ; and my vanity was flattered by the 
velvet cap and silk gown which distinguish a 
gentleman-commoner from a plebeian student. A 
decent allowance, more money than a school-boy 
had ever seen, was at my own disposal ; and I 
might command, among the tradesmen of Oxford, 
an indefinite and dangerous latitude of credit. 
A key was delivered into my hands, which gave 
me the free use of a numerous and learned library: 
my apartment consisted of three elegant and well- 
furnished rooms in the new building, a stately 
pile, of Magdalen College ; and the adjacent 
walks, had they been frequented by Plato's dis- 
ciples, might have been compared to the Attic 
shade on the banks of the Ilissus. Such was the 
fair prospect of my entrance (April 3. 1752) into 
the university of Oxford. 



58 MEMOIRS or CHAP. III. 

A venerable prelate, whose taste and erudition 
must reflect honour on the society in which they 
were formed, lias drawn a very interesting picture 
of his academical life. — "I was educated (says 
Bishop Lowth) in the university of Oxford. 
I enjoyed all the advantages, both public and 
private, which that famous seat of learning so 
largely affords. I spent many years in that illus- 
trious society, in a well-regulated course of useful 
discipline and studies, and in the agreeable and 
improving commerce of gentlemen and of scholars; 
in a society where emulation without envy, am- 
bition without jealousy, contention without ani- 
mosity, incited industry, and awakened genius ; 
where a liberal pursuit of knowledge, and a 
genuine freedom of thought, was raised, encou- 
raged, and pushed forward by example, by com- 
mendation, and by authority. I breathed the 
same atmosphere that the Hookers, the Chil- 
lingwortiis, and the Lockes had breathed before ; 
whose benevolence and humanity were as exten- 
sive as their vast genius and comprehensive know- 
ledge ; who always treated their adversaries with 
civility and respect ; who made candour, mode- 
ration, and liberal judgment as much the rule and 
law as the subject of their discourse. And do you 
reproach me with my education in this place, and 
with my relation to this most respectable body, 
which I shall always esteem my greatest advantage 
and my highest honour?"* I transcribe with plea- 



* From the celebrated Letter to the Right Rev. Author of the Di- 
v me Legation, page 64. — M. 



CHAP. III. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 5Q 

sure this eloquent passage, without examining what 
benefits or what rewards were derived by Hooker, 
or Chillingworth, or Locke, from their academical 
institution ; without inquiring, whether in this angry 
controversy the spirit of Lowth himself is purified 
from the intolerant zeal, which Warburton had as- 
cribed to the genius of the place. It may indeed 
be observed, that the atmosphere of Oxford did 
not agree with Mr. Locke's constitution, and that 
the philosopher justly despised the academical 
bigots, who expelled his person and condemned 
his principles.* The expression of gratitude is a 
virtue and a pleasure : a liberal mind will delight 
to cherish and celebrate the memory of its parents ; 
and the teachers of science are the parents of the 
mind. I applaud the filial piety which it is impos- 
sible for me to imitate ; since I must not confess 
an imaginary debt, to assume the merit of a just or 
generous retribution. To the university of Oxford 
/ acknowledge no obligation ; and she will as 
cheerfully renounce me for a son, as I am willing 
to disclaim her for a mother. I spent fourteen 
months at Magdalen College ; they proved the 
fourteen months the most idle and unprofitable of 
my whole life : the reader will pronounce between 
the school and the scholar : but I cannot affect to 
to believe that Nature had disqualified me for all 



* The subject of the expulsion of this object by the slightest 

of Locke has been set at rest by compromise of truth and justice 

the publication of the late Chan- The disgraceful act was not that 

cellor of Oxford ; who, anxious of the University, but of the servile 

as he might be to uphold the Head of a College in obedience to 

character of the University, would an arbitrary Court. See Lord 

have disdained the attainment even Grenvillc, Oxford and Locke. — M. 



60 MEMOIRS OK CHAT. III. 

literary pursuits. The specious and ready excuse 
of my tender age, imperfect preparation, and hasty 

departure, may doubtless be alleged ; nor do I wish 
to defraud such excuses of their proper weight. 
Yet in my sixteenth year I was not devoid of ca- 
pacity or application ; even my childish reading 
had displayed an early though blind propensity for 
books ; and the shallow flood might have been 
taught to flow in a deep channel and a clear 
stream. In the discipline of a well-constituted 
academy, under the guidance of skilful and vigilant 
professors, I should gradually have risen from trans- 
lations to originals, from the Latin to the Greek 
classics, from dead languages to living science : 
my hours would have been occupied by useful 
and agreeable studies, the wanderings of fancy 
would have been restrained, and I should have 
escaped the temptations of idleness, which finally 
precipitated my departure from Oxford. 

Perhaps in a separate annotation I may coolly 
examine the fabulous and real antiquities of our 
sister universities, a question which has kindled 
such fierce and foolish disputes among their fanatic 
sons. In the mean while it will be acknowledged, 
that these venerable bodies are sufficiently old to 
partake of all the prejudices and infirmities of age. 
The schools of Oxford and Cambridge were founded 
in a dark age of false and barbarous science ; and 
they are still tainted with the vices of their origin. 
Their primitive discipline was adapted to the edu- 
cation of priests and monks ; and the government 
still remains in the hands of the clergy, an order of 
men whose manners are remote from the present 



CHAP. III. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 6'i 

world, and whose eyes are dazzled by the light of 
philosophy. The legal incorporation of these so- 
cieties by the charters of popes and kings had given 
them a monopoly of the public instruction ; and 
the spirit of monopolists is narrow, lazy, and op- 
pressive ; their work is more costly and less pro- 
ductive than that of independent artists ; and the 
new improvements so eagerly grasped by the com- 
petition of freedom, are admitted with slow and 
sullen reluctance in those proud corporations, 
above the fear of a rival, and below the confession 
of an error. We may scarcely hope that any re- 
formation will be a voluntary act ; and so deeply 
are they rooted in law and prejudice, that even the 
omnipotence of parliament would shrink from an 
inquiry into the state and abuses of the two uni- 
versities. 

The use of academical degrees, as old as the 
thirteenth century, is visibly borrowed from the 
mechanic corporations ; in which an apprentice, 
after serving his time, obtains a testimonial of his 
skill, and a licence to practise his trade and mystery. 
It is not my design to depreciate those honours, 
which could never gratify or disappoint my am- 
bition ; and I should applaud the institution, if the 
degrees of bachelor or licentiate were bestowed as 
the reward of manly and successful study : if the 
name and rank of doctor or master were strictly 
reserved for the professors of science, who have 
approved their title to the public esteem. 

In all the universities of Europe, excepting our 
own, the languages and sciences are distributed 
among a numerous list of effective professors j the 



02 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. III. 

students, according to their taste, their calling, and 

their diligence, apply themselves to the proper 
masters ; and in the annual repetition of public 
and private lectures, these masters are assiduously 
employed. Our curiosity may inquire what number 
of professors has been instituted at Oxford ? (for I 
shall now confine myself to my own university ; ) 
by whom are they appointed, and what may be the 
probable chances of merit or incapacity? how many 
are stationed to the three faculties, and how many 
are left for the liberal arts ? what is the form, and 
what the substance, of their lessons ? But all these 
questions are silenced by one short and singular 
answer, "That in the university of Oxford, the 
greater part of the public professors have for these 
many years given up altogether even the pretence 
of teaching." Incredible as the fact may appear, 
I must rest my belief on the positive and impartial 
evidence of a master of moral and political wisdom, 
who had himself resided at Oxford. Dr. Adam 
Smith assigns as the cause of their indolence, that, 
instead of being paid by voluntary contributions, 
which would urge them to increase the number, 
and to deserve the gratitude of their pupils, the 
Oxford professors are secure in the enjoyment of a 
fixed stipend, without the necessity of labour, or 
the apprehension of controul. It has indeed been 
observed, nor is the observation absurd, that ex- 
cepting in experimental sciences, which demand a 
costly apparatus and a dexterous hand, the many 
valuable treatises, that have been published on 
every subject of learning, may now supersede the 
ancient mode of oral instruction. Were this prin- 



CHAP. III. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 63 

ciple true in its utmost latitude, I should only infer 
that the offices and salaries, which are become 
useless, ought without delay to be abolished. But 
there still remains a material difference between a 
book and a professor ; the hour of the lecture 
enforces attendance ; attention is fixed by the 
presence, the voice, and the occasional questions of 
the teacher ; the most idle will carry something 
away ; and the more diligent will compare the 
instructions, which they have heard in the school, 
with the volumes, which they peruse in their 
chamber. The advice of a skilful professor will 
adapt a course of reading to every mind and every 
situation ; his authority will discover, admonish, 
and at last chastise the negligence of his disciples ; 
and his vigilant inquiries will ascertain the steps of 
their literary progress. Whatever science he pro- 
fesses he may illustrate in a series of discourses, 
composed in the leisure of his closet, pronounced 
on public occasions, and finally delivered to the 
press. I observe with pleasure, that in the uni- 
versity of Oxford Dr. Lowth, with equal eloquence 
and erudition, has executed this task in his incom- 
parable Prcelectiones on the Poetry of the Hebrews. 
The college of St. Mary Magdalen was founded 
in the fifteenth century by Wainfleet, Bishop of 
Winchester ; and now consists of a president, forty 
fellows, and a number of inferior students. It is 
esteemed one of the largest and most wealthy of 
our academical corporations, which maybe compared 
to the Benedictine abbeys of catholic countries ; 
and I have loosely heard that the estates belonging 
to Magdalen College, which are leased by those 



64) MEMOIRS OF (HAT. III. 

indulgent landlords at small quit-rents and occa- 
sional fines, might be raised, in the hands of private 
avarice, to an annual revenue of nearly thirty thou- 
sand pounds. Our colleges are supposed to be 
schools of science, as well as of education ; nor is 
it unreasonable to expect that a body of literary 
men, devoted to a life of celibacy, exempt from the 
care of their own subsistence, and amply provided 
with books, should devote their leisure to the pro- 
secution of study, and that some effects of their 
studies should be manifested to the world. The 
shelves of their library groan under the weight of 
the Benedictine folios, of the editions of the fathers, 
and the collections of the middle ages, which have 
issued from the single abbey of St. Germain de 
Prez at Paris. A composition of genius must be 
the offspring of one mind ; but such works of in- 
dustry, as may be divided among many hands, and 
must be continued during many years, are the pe- 
culiar province of a laborious community. If I 
inquire into the manufactures of the monks of 
Magdalen, if I extend the inquiry to the other 
colleges of Oxford and Cambridge, a silent blush, 
or a scornful frown, will be the only reply. The 
fellows or monks of my time were decent easy men, 
who supinely enjoyed the gifts of the founder : 
their days were filled by a series of uniform em- 
ployments; the chapel and the hall, the coffee-house 
and the common room, till they retired, weary and 
well satisfied, to a long slumber. Prom the toil of 
reading, or thinking, or writing, they had absolved 
their conscience ; and the first shoots of learning 
and ingenuity withered on the ground, without 



CHAP. III. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 65 

yielding any fruits to the owners or the public. As 
a gentleman-commoner, I was admitted to the so- 
ciety of the fellows, and fondly expected that some 
questions of literature would be the amusing and 
instructive topics of their discourse. Their con- 
versation stagnated in a round of college business, 
Tory politics, personal anecdotes, and private 
scandal : their dull and deep potations excused the 
brisk intemperance of youth : and their constitu- 
tional toasts were not expressive of the most lively 
loyalty for the house of Hanover. A general 
election was now approaching : the great Oxford- 
shire contest already blazed with all the malevolence 
of party-zeal. Magdalen College was devoutly 
attached to the old interest! and the names of 
Wenman and Dashwood were more frequently 
pronounced, than those of Cicero and Chrysostom. 
The example of the senior fellows could not inspire 
the under-graduates with a liberal spirit or studious 
emulation ; and I cannot describe, as I never knew, 
the discipline of college. Some duties may possibly 
have been imposed on the poor scholars, whose 
ambition aspired to the peaceful honours of a fel- 
lowship (ascribi quietis ordinibus .... Deorwrn) ; 
but no independent members were admitted below 
the rank of a gentleman-commoner, and our velvet 
cap was the cap of liberty. A tradition prevailed 
that some of our predecessors had spoken Latin 
declamations in the hall ; but of this ancient custom 
no vestige remained : the obvious methods of public 
exercises and examinations were totally unknown ; 
and I have never heard that either the president or 

F 



66 MEMOIRS OF CHAT. III. 

the society interfered in the private economy of 
the tutors and their pupils. 

The silence of the Oxford professors, which de- 
prives the youth of public instruction, is imper- 
fectly supplied by the tutors, as they are styled, of 
the several colleges. Instead of confining themselves 
to a single science, which had satisfied the ambition 
of Burman or Bernouilli, they teach, or promise to 
teach, either history or mathematics, or ancient 
literature, or moral philosophy ; and as it is possible 
that they may be defective in all, it is highly pro- 
bable that of some they will be ignorant. They are 
paid, indeed, by private contributions ; but their 
appointment depends on the head of the house: 
their diligence is voluntary, and will consequently 
be languid, while the pupils themselves, or their 
parents, are not indulged in the liberty of choice or 
change. The first tutor into whose hands I was 
resigned appears to have been one of the best of 
the tribe : Dr. Waldegrave was a learned and pious 
man, of a mild disposition, strict morals, and ab- 
stemious life, who seldom mingled in the politics or 
the jollity of the college. But his knowledge of the 
world was confined to the university ; his learning 
was of the last, rather than of the present age ; his 
temper was indolent ; his faculties, which were not 
of the first rate, had been relaxed by the climate, 
and he was satisfied, like his fellows, with the slight 
and superficial discharge of an important trust. As 
soon as my tutor had sounded the insufficiency of 
his disciple in school-learning, he proposed that we 
should read every morning from ten to eleven the 
comedies of Terence. The sum of my improvement 



CHAP. III. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. C)J 

in the university of Oxford is confined to three or 
four Latin plays ; and even the study of an elegant 
classic, which might have been illustrated by a 
comparison of ancient and modern theatres, was 
reduced to a dry and literal interpretation of the 
author's text. During the first weeks I constantly 
attended these lessons in my tutor's room ; but as 
they appeared equally devoid of profit and pleasure, 
I was once tempted to try the experiment of a 
formal apology. The apology was accepted with 
a smile. I repeated the offence with less ceremony ; 
the excuse was admitted with the same indulgence : 
the slightest motive of laziness or indisposition, the 
most trifling avocation at home or abroad, was al- 
lowed as a worthy impediment ; nor did my tutor 
appear conscious of my absence or neglect. Had 
the hour of lecture been constantly filled, a single 
hour was a small portion of my academic leisure. 
No plan of study was recommended for my use j 
no exercises were prescribed for his inspection ; 
and, at the most precious season of youth, whole 
days and weeks were suffered to elapse without 
labour or amusement, without advice or account. 
I should have listened to the voice of reason and 
of my tutor ; his mild behaviour had gained my 
confidence. I preferred his society to that of the 
younger students * j and in our evening walks to 



* Mr. Finden, an ancient Fellow once informed by Finden rather 

of Magdalen College, and a co- coarsely, but with some humour, 

temporary of Gibbon, told me that that if their heads were entirely 

his superior abilities were known scooped, Gibbon had brains suffi- 

l' to many, but that the gentleman- cient to supply them all. — From 

commoners, of which number Gib- the learned and excellent presi- 

bon was one, were disposed to dent of Magdalen College — Dr. 

laugh at his peculiarities ; and were Routh. — M. 

F 2 



G8 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. III. 

the top of Heddington-hillj we freely conversed on 
a variety of subjects. Since the days of Pocock and 
Hyde, Oriental learning has always been the pride 
of Oxford, and I once expressed an inclination to 
study Arabic. His prudence discouraged this 
childish fancy ; but he neglected the fair occasion 
of directing the ardour of a curious mind. During 
my absence in the Summer vacation, Dr Walde- 
grave * accepted a college living at Washington 
in Sussex, and on my return I no longer found him 
at Oxford. From that time I have lost sight of 
my first tutor ; but at the end of thirty years (17^1) 
he was still alive ; and the practice of exercise and 
temperance had entitled him to a healthy old age. 
The long recess between the Trinity and Mi- 
chaelmas terms empties the colleges of Oxford, as 
well as the courts of Westminster. I spent, at 
my father's house at Buriton in Hampshire, the 
two months of August and September. It is 
whimsical enough, that as soon as I left Magdalen 
College, my taste for books began to revive t ; but 



* Dr. Waldegrave, the virtuous tensive, and that he has once been 

and learned friend of Gibbon, is re- a Mabometan." — See Mr. Croker's 

ported to have said, when he heard note, Boswell, iii.33G. — M. 

of his embracing the Roman Ca- f Old Daniel Parker, the book- 

tholic religion, that he should seller at Oxford, gives us a few 

rather have thought he would have traits of Gibbon wben at college, 

turned Mahometan; alluding to " I knew him personally. He was 

his fondness for perusing the a singular character, and but little 

Arabic historians in the Latin trans- connected with the young gcntle- 

lations. — Traditionary anecdote, men of his college. They admit at 

communicated by the learned pre- Magdalen College only men of 

sident of Magdalen College. — M. fortune — no commoners. One 

It is odd enough, that, at a later uncommon book for a young man 

period of his life, when Bos- I remember selling to him — La 

well observed that Gibbon, having Bibliotheque Orientate D'Herbe- 

changed his religion so often, lot, which he seems much to have 

might end in "a methbdist preach- used for authorities for his Eastern 

er, Johnson said, laughing, " It is Roman History." Gent. Mag. vol. 

.said that his range has been more ex- lxiv. p. 1 11>. — M. 



CHAP. III. MY LIFE xlND WRITINGS. 6 ( .) 

it was the same blind and boyish taste for the pur- 
suit of exotic history. Unprovided with original 
learning, unformed in the habits of thinking, un- 
skilled in the arts of composition, I resolved — to 
write a book. The title of this first essay, T7ie 
Age of Sesostris, was perhaps suggested by Vol- 
taire's Age of Louis XIV., which was new and 
popular ; but my sole object was to investigate the 
probable date of the life and reign of the conqueror 
of Asia. I was then enamoured of Sir John Mar- 
sham's Canon Chronicus* ; an elaborate work, of 
whose merits and defects I was not yet qualified to 
judge. According to his specious, though narrow 
plan, I settled my hero about the time of Solomon, 
in the tenth century before the Christian sera. It 
was therefore incumbent on me, unless I would 
adopt Sir Isaac Newton's shorter chronology, to 
remove a formidable objection ; and my solution, 
for a youth of fifteen, is not devoid of ingenuity. 
In his version of the Sacred Books, Manetho the 
high priest has identified Sethosis, or Sesostris, 
with the elder brother of Danaus, who landed in 
Greece, according to the Parian Marble, fifteen 
hundred and ten years before Christ. But in my 
supposition the high priest is guilty of a voluntary 
error : flattery is the prolific parent of falsehood. 
Manetho's history of Egypt t is dedicated to 



* Perhaps the chronological f The history of Manetho has 

part of Sir John Marsham's work latterly assumed new importance, 

is that which least maintains his as apparently coinciding, at least 

fame ; but there are many his- to a certain extent, with the mo- 

torical observations in this learned numental history developed by 

volume of remarkable acuteness Champollion and his followers. — 

and ingenuity. — M. M. 

F 3 



70 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. III. 

Ptolemy Philadelphia, who derived a fabulous or 
illegitimate pedigree from the Macedonian kings 
of the race of Hercules. Danaus is the ancestor 
of Hercules ; and after the failure of the elder 
branch, his descendants, the Ptolemies, are the sole 
representatives of the royal family, and may claim 
by inheritance the kingdom which they hold by 
conquest. Such were my juvenile discoveries ; at a 
riper age, I no longer presume to connect the 
Greek, the Jewish, and the Egyptian antiquities, 
which are lost in a distant cloud. Nor is this the 
only instance, in which the belief and knowledge 
of the child are superseded by the more rational 
ignorance of the man. During my stay at Buriton, 
my infant labour was diligently prosecuted, without 
much interruption from company or country di- 
versions ; and I already heard the music of public 
applause. The discovery of my own weakness 
was the first symptom of taste. On my return to 
Oxford the age of Sesostris was wisely relin- 
quished ; but the imperfect sheets remained twenty 
years at the bottom of a drawer, till, in a general 
clearance of papers (November 1772), they were 
committed to the flames. 

After the departure of Dr. Waldegrave, I was 
transferred, with his other pupils, to his academical 
heir, whose literary character did not command 
the respect of the college. Dr. * * * * t well re- 
membered that he had a salary to receive, and 
only forgot that he had a duty to perform. Instead 



-|- I have not considered it right to insert this name, which Gibbon 
thought proper to suppress. — M. 



CHAP. III. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 71 

of guiding the studies, and watching over the be- 
haviour of his disciple, I was never summoned to 
attend even the ceremony of a lecture ; and ex- 
cepting one voluntary visit to his rooms, during 
the eight months of his titular office, the tutor and 
pupil lived in the same college as strangers to each 
other. The want of experience, of advice, and of 
occupation soon betrayed me into some impro- 
prieties of conduct, ill-chosen company, late hours, 
and inconsiderate expense. My growing debts 
might be secret ; but my frequent absence was 
visible and scandalous : and a tour to Bath, a visit 
into Buckinghamshire, and four excursions to 
London in the same winter, were costly and dan- 
gerous frolics. They were indeed without a 
meaning, as without an excuse. The irksomeness 
of a cloistered life repeatedly tempted me to 
wander ; but my chief pleasure was that of tra- 
velling ; and I was too young and bashful to en- 
joy, like a Manly Oxonian in Town, the pleasures 
of London. In all these excursions I eloped from 
Oxford ; I returned to college ; in a few days I 
eloped again, as if I had been an independent 
stranger in a hired lodging, without once hearing 
the voice of admonition, without once feeling 
the hand of control. Yet my time was lost, my 
expenses were multiplied, my behaviour abroad 
was unknown ; folly as well as vice should have 
awakened the attention of my superiors, and my 
tender years would have justified a more than 
ordinary degree of restraint and discipline. 

It might at least be expected, that an ecclesi- 
astical school should inculcate the orthodox prin- 

F 4 



72 MEMOIRS OF CHAT. III. 

Ciples of religion. But our venerable mother had 
contrived to unite the opposite extremes of bigotry 
and indifference ; an heretic, or unbeliever, was a 
monster in her eyes ; but she was always, or often, 
or, sometimes, remiss in the spiritual education of 
her own children. According to the statutes of 
the university, every student, before he is matri- 
culated, must subscribe his assent to the thirty- 
nine articles of the church of England, which are 
signed by more than read, and read by more than 
believe them. My insufficient age excused me, 
however, from the immediate performance of this 
legal ceremony ; and the vice-chancellor directed 
me to return, as soon as I should have accom- 
plished my fifteenth year ; recommending me, in 
the mean while, to the instruction of my college. 
My college forgot to instruct ; I fo'rgot to return, 
and was myself forgotten by the first magistrate of 
the university. Without a single lecture, either 
public or private, either christian or protestant, 
without any academical subscription, without any 
episcopal confirmation, I was left by the dim light 
of my catechism to grope my way to the chapel 
and communion-table, where I was admitted, with- 
out a question, how far, or by what means, I might 
be qualified to receive the sacrament. Such almost 
incredible neglect was productive of the worst 
mischiefs. From my childhood I had been fond 
of religious disputation : my poor aunt has been 
often puzzled by the mysteries which she strove 
to believe ; nor had the elastic spring been totally 
broken by the weight of the atmosphere of Ox- 
ford. The blind activity of idleness urged me 
to advance without armour into the dangerous 



CHAP. III. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 73 

mazes of controversy ; and at the age of sixteen, 
I bewildered myself in the errors of the church of 
Rome. 

The progress of my conversion may tend to 
illustrate at least the history of my own mind. It 
was not long since Dr. Middleton's free inquiry 
had sounded an alarm in the theological world : 
much ink and much gall had been spilt in the 
defence of the primitive miracles j and the two 
dullest of their champions were crowned with 
academic honours by the university of Oxford. 
The name of Middleton was unpopular ; and his 
proscription very naturally led me to peruse his 
writings, and those of his antagonists.* His bold 
criticism, which approaches the precipice of infi- 
delity, produced on my mind a singular effect ; and 
had I persevered in the communion of Rome, I 
should now apply to my own fortune the prediction 
of the Sibyl, 

Via prima salutis, 

Quod minim e reris, Graia pandetur ab urbe. 

The elegance of style and freedom of argument 
were repelled by a shield of prejudice, I still re- 
vered the character, or rather the names, of the 
saints and fathers whom Dr. Middleton exposes ; 
nor could he destroy my implicit belief, that the 
gift of miraculous powers was continued in the 
church, during the first four or five centuries of 
Christianity. But I was unable to resist the weight 
of historical evidence, that within the same period 
most of the leading doctrines of popery were al- 
ready introduced in theory and practice : nor was 



* Dr. Dodwell and Dr. Church. See Vindication of Free Inquiry, 
in Middleton's Works, vol. i. p. 190.— M. 



7'1< MEMOIRS OF CHAP. III. 

my conclusion absurd, that miracles arc the test of 
truth, and that the church must be orthodox and 
pure, which was so often approved by the visible 
interposition of the Deity. The marvellous tales 
which are so boldly attested by the Basils and 
Chrysostoms, the Austins and Jeroms, compelled 
me to embrace the superior merits of celibacy, the 
institution of the monastic life, the use of the sign 
of the cross, of holy oil, and even of images, the 
invocation of saints, the worship of relics, the rudi- 
ments of purgatory in prayers for the dead, and the 
tremendous mystery of the sacrifice of the body 
and blood of Christ, which insensibly swelled into 
the prodigy of transubstantiation. In these dispo- 
sitions, and already more than half a convert, I 
formed an unlucky intimacy with a young gentle- 
man of our college. With a character less resolute, 
Mr. Moles worth had imbibed the same religious 
opinions ; and some Popish books, I know not 
through what channel, were conveyed into his pos- 
session. I read, T applauded, I believed: the 
English translations of two famous works of Bos- 
suet, Bishop of Meaux, the Exposition of the 
Catholic Doctrine, and the History of the Protes- 
tant Variations, achieved my conversion, and I 
surely fell by a noble hand. 1 I have since ex- 

1 Mr. Gibbon never talked with me on the subject of his conversion 
to popery but once : and then lie imputed his change to the works ol' 
Parsons the Jesuit*, who lived in the reign of Elizabeth, and who, he 
said, had urged all the best arguments in Favour of the Roman catholic 
religion. — !S. 



* These were probably Mr, sons, were likely to attract the 

Molesworth's books. The style, attention, and captivate the ad- 

singularly clear and vivid, as well miration of Gibbon. — M. 
as the arguments, of Father Par- 



CHAP. III. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. J5 

amined the originals with a more discerning eye, 
and shall not hesitate to pronounce, that Bossuet 
is indeed a master of all the weapons of contro- 
versy. In the Exposition, a specious apology, the 
orator assumes, with consummate art, the tone of 
candour and simplicity ; and the ten-horned monster 
is transformed, at his magic touch, into the milk- 
white hind, who must be loved as soon as she is 
seen. In the History, a bold and well-aimed 
attack, he displays, with a happy mixture of narra- 
tive and argument, the faults and follies, the 
changes and contradictions of our first reformers ; 
whose variations (as he dexterously contends) are 
the mark of historical error, while the perpetual 
unity of the catholic church is the sign and test of 
infallible truth. To my present feelings it seems 
incredible that I should ever believe that I believed 
in transubstantiation. But my conqueror op- 
pressed me with the sacramental words, " Hoc est 
corpus meum," and dashed against each other the 
figurative half-meanings of the protestant sects : 
every objection was resolved into omnipotence ; 
and after repeating at St. Mary's the Athanasian 
creed, I humbly acquiesced in the mystery of the 
real presence. 

" To take up half on trust, and half to try, 
Name it not faith, but bungling bigotry. 
Both knave and fool, the merchant we may call, 
To pay great sums, and to compound the small, 
For who would break with Heaven, and would not break for 
all?"* 

No sooner had I settled my new religion than I 
resolved to profess myself a catholic. Youth is 



Dryden, " Hind and Panther," i. 14L 



7<J MEMOIRS OF (HAP. III. 

sincere and impetuous ; and a momentary glow of 
enthusiasm bad raised me above all temporal con- 
siderations. 2 

By the keen protestants, who would gladly reta- 
liate the example of persecution, a clamour is raised 
of the increase of popery: and they are always 
loud to declaim against the toleration of priests and 
Jesuits who pervert so many of his majesty's sub- 
jects from their religion and allegiance. On the 
present occasion, the fall of one or more of her 
sons directed this clamour against the university ; 
and it was confidently affirmed that popish mission- 
aries were suffered, under various disguises, to in- 
troduce themselves into the colleges of Oxford. 
But justice obliges me to declare that, as far as 
relates to myself, this assertion is false ; and that I 
never conversed with a priest or even with a pa- 
pist, till my resolution from books was absolutely 
fixed. In my last excursion to London, I ad- 
dressed myself to Mr. Lewis, a Roman catholic 
bookseller in Russell-street, Covent Garden, who 
recommended me to a priest, of whose name and 
order I am at present ignorant. 3 In our first inter- 
view he soon discovered that persuasion was need- 
less. After sounding the motives and merits of 
my conversion, he consented to admit me into the 
pale of the church ; and at his feet on the eighth 
of June 1753, I solemnly, though privately, ab- 

a lie described the letter to his father, announcing his conversion, 
as written with all the pomp, the dignity, and self-satisfaction of a 
martyr. — S. 

; His name was Baker, a Jesuit, and one ot' the chaplains of the 
Sardinian ambassador. Mr. Gibbon's conversion made some noise; 
and Mr, Lewis, the Roman catholic bookseller of Russell-street, Covent 
Garden, was summoned before the Privy Council, and interrogated on 
the Bubject. This was communicated by Mr. Lewis's sun. 1 s 14. — S. 



CHAP. III. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 77 

jured the errors of heresy. The seduction of an 
English youth of family and fortune was an act of 
as much danger as glory ; but he bravely over- 
looked the danger, of which I was not then suffi- 
ciently informed. " Where a person is reconciled 
to the see of Rome, or procures others to be recon- 
ciled, the offence (says Blackstone) amounts to high 
treason." And if the humanity of the age would 
prevent the execution of this sanguinary statute, 
there were other laws of a less odious cast, which 
condemned the priest to perpetual imprisonment, 
and transferred the proselyte's estate to his nearest 
relation. An elaborate controversial epistle, ap- 
proved by my director, and addressed to my father, 
announced and justified the step which I had taken. 
My father was neither a bigot nor a philosopher ; 
but his affection deplored the loss of an only son ; 
and his good sense was astonished at my strange 
departure from the religion of my country. In the 
first sally of passion he divulged a secret which 
prudence might have suppressed, and the gates of 
Magdalen College were for ever shut against my 
return. Many years afterwards, when the name 
of Gibbon was become as notorious as that of Mid- 
dleton, it was industriously whispered at Oxford, 
that the historian had formerly " turned papist :" 
my character stood exposed to the reproach of in. 
constancy ; and this invidious topic would have 
been handled without mercy by my opponents, 
could they have separated my cause from that of 
the university. For my own part, I am proud of 
an honest sacrifice of interest to conscience. I can 
never blush, if my tender mind was entangled in 



78 MEMOIRS "1 I HAT. III. 

the sophistry that seduced the acute and manly 
understandings of Chillingworth andBATLE, who 
afterwards emerged from superstition to scepticism. 
\\ 'liile Charles the First governed England, and 
was himself governed by a catholic queen, it cannot 
be denied that the missionaries of Rome laboured 
with impunity and success in the court, the 
country, and even the universities. One of the 
sheep, 

Whom the grim wolf with privy paw 

Daily devours apace, and nothing said, 

is Mr. William Chillingworth, Master of Arts, and 
Fellow of Trinity College, Oxford ; who, at the 
ripe age of twenty-eight years, was persuaded to 
elope from Oxford, to the English seminary at 
Douay in Flanders. Some disputes with Fisher, a 
subtle Jesuit, might first awaken him from the pre- 
judices of education ; but he yielded to his own 
victorious argument, " that there must be some- 
where an infallible judge ; and that the church of 
Rome is the only christian society which either 
does or can pretend to that character." After a 
short trial of a few months, Mr. Chillingworth was 
again tormented by religious scruples : he returned 
home, resumed his studies, unravelled his mistakes, 
and delivered his mind from the yoke of authority 
and superstition. His new creed was built on the 
principle, that the Bible is our sole judge, and 
private reason our sole interpreter : and he ably 
maintains this principle in the Religion of a Pro- 
testant, a book which, alter star! ling the doctors of 
Oxford, is still esteemed the most solid defence of 
the reformation. The learning, the virtue, the 



CHAP. III. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 79 

recent merits of the author, entitled him to fair 
preferment : but the slave had now broken his 
fetters ; and the more he weighed, the less was he 
disposed to subscribe to the thirty-nine articles of 
the church of England. In a private letter he 
declares, with all the energy of language, that he 
could not subscribe to them without subscribing to 
his own damnation ; and that if ever he should 
depart from this immoveable resolution, he would 
allow his friends to think him a madman, or an 
atheist. As the letter is without a date, we cannot 
ascertain the number of weeks or months that 
elapsed between this passionate abhorrence and the 
Salisbury Register, which is still extant. " Ego 

Gulielmus Chillingworth, omnibus hisce arti- 

culis, et singulis in iisdem contends, volens 

et ex animo subscribo, et consensum meum iisdem 
prasbeo. 20 die Julii 1638." But, alas ! the chan- 
cellor and prebendary of Sarum soon deviated from 
his own subscription : as he more deeply scrutinised 
the article of the Trinity, neither scripture nor the 
primitive fathers could long uphold his orthodox 
belief; and he could not but confess, "that the 
doctrine of Arius is either a truth, or at least no 
damnable heresy." From this middle region of the 
air, the descent of his reason would naturally rest 
on the firmer ground of the Socinians : and if we 
may credit a doubtful story, and the popular 
opinion, his anxious inquiries at last subsided in 
philosophic indifference. So conspicuous, however, 
were the candour of his nature and the innocence 
of his heart, that this apparent levity did not affect 
the reputation of Chillingworth. His frequent 



80 MEMOIRS OF ( HAP. III. 

changes proceeded from too nice an inquisition into 
truth. His doubts grew out of himself; lie assisted 
them with all the strength of his reason : he was 
then too hard for himself; but finding as little 
quiet and repose in those victories, he quickly 
recovered, by a new appeal to his own judgment : 
so that in all his sallies and retreats, he was in fact 
his own convert. (') 

Bayle was the son of a Calvin ist minister in a 
remote province in France, at the foot of the Py- 
renees. For the benefit of education, the pro- 
testants were tempted to risk their children in the 
catholic universities; and in the twenty-second 
year of his age, young Bayle was seduced by the 
arts and arguments of the Jesuits of Thoulouse. 
He remained about seventeen months (19th March 
1699 — 19th August I67O) in their hands, a volun- 
tary captive; and a letter to his parents, which the 
new convert composed or subscribed (15th April 
I67O), is darkly tinged with the spirit of popery. 
But nature had designed him to think as he pleased, 
and to speak as he thought: his piety was offended 
by the excessive worship of creatures ; and the 
study of physics convinced him of the impossibility 
of transubstantiation, which is abundantly refuted 
by the testimony of our senses. His return to the 
communion of a falling sect was a bold and disin- 
terested step, that exposed him to the rigour of the 
laws ; and a speedy flight to Geneva protected him 
from the resentment of his spiritual tyrants, un- 
conscious, as they were, of the full value of the prize 
which they had lost. Had Bayle adhered to the 
catholic church, had he embraced the ecclesiastical 



CHAP. III. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 81 

profession, the genius and favour of such a proselyte 
might have aspired to wealth and honours in his 
native country : but the hypocrite would have 
found less happiness in the comforts of a benefice, 
or the dignity of a mitre, than he enjoyed at 
Rotterdam in a private state of exile, indigence, 
and freedom. Without a country, or a patron, or a 
prejudice, he claimed the liberty and subsisted by 
the labours of his pen : the inequality of his volu- 
minous works is explained and excused by his 
alternately writing for himself, for the booksellers, 
and for posterity ; and if a severe critic would 
reduce him to a single folio, that relic, like the 
books of the Sybil, would become still more 
valuable. A calm and lofty spectator of the re- 
ligious tempest, the philosopher of Rotterdam con- 
demned with equal firmness the persecution of 
Louis the Fourteenth, and the republican maxims 
of the Calvinists ; their vain prophecies, and the 
intolerant bigotry which sometimes vexed his soli- 
tary retreat. In reviewing the controversies of the 
times, he turned against each other the arguments 
of the disputants ; successively wielding the arms 
of the catholics and protestants, he proves that 
neither the way of authority nor the way of ex- 
amination can afford the multitude any test of 
religious truth ; and dexterously concludes that 
custom and education must be the solegrounds of po- 
pular belief. The ancient paradox of Plutarch, that 
atheism is less pernicious than superstition, acquires 
a tenfold vigor, when it is adorned with the colours 
of his wit, and pointed with the acuteness of his 
logic. His critical dictionary is a vast repository 



82 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. III. 

of facts and opinions ; and he balances the filse 
religions in his sceptical scales, till the opposite 
quantities (if I may use the language of algebra) 
annihilate each other. The wonderful power 
which he so boldly exercised, of assembling doubts 
and objections, had tempted him jocosely to assume 
the title of the vsQe^yspsTa Zs'jg, the cloud-com- 
pelling Jove ; and in a conversation with the in- 
genious Abbe (afterwards Cardinal) de Polignac, 
he freely disclosed his universal Pyrrhonism. " I 
am most truly (said Bayle) a protestant ; for I 
protest indifferently against all systems and all 
sects."* 

The academical resentment, which I may pos- 
sibly have provoked, will prudently spare this plain 
narrative of my studies, or rather of my idleness ; 
and of the unfortunate event which shortened the 
term of my residence at Oxford. But it may be 
suggested, that my father was unlucky in the choice 
of a society, and the chance of a tutor. It will 
perhaps be asserted, that in the lapse of forty years 
many improvements have taken place in the college 
and in the university. I am not unwilling to believe, 
that some tutors might have been found more active 
than Dr. Waldegrave and less contemptible than 
Dr. ****. At a more recent period, many students 
have been attracted by the merit and reputation of 
Sir William Scott, then a tutor in University College, 
and now conspicuous in the profession of the civil 
law : my personal acquaintance with that gentleman 



* Compare with tin's the clever la Literature du xviiime Siecle, by 
character of Baj le in the Essai sur M. de Barante.— M. 



CHAP. III. 3IY LIFE AND WRITINGS. S3 

has inspired me with a just esteem for his abilities 
and knowledge ; and I am assured that his lectures 
on history would compose, were they given to the 
public, a most valuable treatise.* Under the auspices 
of the late Deans, a more regular discipline has 
been introduced, as I am told, at Christ Church (2); 
a course of classical and philosophical studies is pro- 
posed, and even pursued, in that numerous semi- 
nary : learning has been made a duty, a pleasure, 
and even a fashion ; and several young gentlemen 
do honour to the college in which they have been 
educated. According to the will of the donor, the 
profit of the second part of Lord Clarendon's 
History has been applied to the establishment of a 
riding-school, that the polite exercises might be 
taught, I know not with what success, in the uni- 
versity.^) TheVinerian professorship is of far more 
serious importance ; the laws of his country are the 
first science of an Englishman of rank and fortune, 
who is called to be a magistrate, and may hope to 
be a legislator. This judicious institution was 
coldly entertained by the graver doctors, who com- 

* These lectures were left, on are passages,which, for originality of 

the decease of Sir W. Scott (Lord thought, masculine good sense, and 

Stowell) in an imperfect state, with exquisite felicity of language, make 

a strict injunction against their me regret the sentence which has 

publication. By the friendly con- been passed upon them, by the re- 

fidence of Lord Sidmouth, one of serve or the diffidence of the author. 

Lord Stowell's executors, I have One lecture in particular, contain- 

been permitted to read these papers, ing a more general view of society, 

From the extraordinary progress struck me as a masterpiece of 

which has been recently made in composition, and as an example of 

the study of Grecian antiquities English prose, peculiar indeed, and 

by the scholars of Germany, the characteristic of the writer ; but in 

lectures which relate to those sub- purity, terseness, and a kind of 

jects would be found, perhaps, not . sententious vigour, rarely equalled, 

quite to rise to the level of mo- perhaps not surpassed, in the whole 

dern knowledge; but in all, there range of our literature. — M. 

G 2 



84 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 

plained (I have heard the complaint) that it would 
take the young people from their books; but Mr. 
Viner's benefaction is not unprofitable, since it has 
at least produced the excellent commentaries of Sir 
William Blackstone. (4) 



NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 



No. 1. page 80. 

To this eloquent account we have only one objection, that it 
too lightly adopts that rumour which was propagated against Chil- 
lingworth by the bigots of his own age, of his having " subsided into 
that philosophic indifference," which might have been honourable 
in the eyes of Mr. Gibbon, but which we do not believe to have 
been so in those of Chillingworth. To adopt the charges of bigots is 
not worthy of a philosopher. Chillingworth was called an infidel by 
the zealots of his age, because he was moderate, candid, and rational ; 
in the same manner that impostors, clad in the disguise of bigots, now 
call Priestley worse than an atheist! The Christianity of Chillingworth 
is certainly not altogether in dogma, and not at all in spirit, the same 
with that of Horsley : but it is perfectly coincident, both in doc- 
trine and spirit, with the Christianity of Locke and Clarke, of 
Watson and Paley. As long as the religion of the gospel continues 
to be professed and defended in its own genuine spirit by the greatest 
masters of human reason, it can neither be exposed by the scoffs 
of enemies, nor even endangered by the fury of pretended friends. 
— Monthly Review, N. S. vol. xx. p. 87., by Sir James Mackintosh. — M. 

No. 2. page 83. 

This was written on the information Mr. Gibbon had received, 
and the observation he had made, previous to his late resilience at 
Lausanne. During his last visit to England, lie had an opportunity of 
seeing at Sheffield Place some young nun of the college above alluded 
to; he had great satisfaction in conversing with them, made many 
inquiries respecting their course of study, applauded the discipline of 
Christ Church, and the liberal attention shown by the Dean to those 
whose only recommendation was their merit. Had Mr. Gibbon lived 
to revise this work, 1 am sure he would have mentioned the name of 



CHAP. III. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 85 

Dr. Jackson with the highest commendation : and also that of Dr. Bagot, 
Bishop of St. Asaph, whose attention to the duties of his office while 
he was Dean of Christ Church was unremitted ; and to whom, perhaps 
that college is more indebted for the good discipline introduced there, 
than to any other person whatever. There are other colleges at 
Oxford, with whose discipline my friend was unacquainted, to which, 
without doubt, he would willingly have allowed their due praise, par- 
ticularly Brazen Nose and Oriel Colleges ; the former under the care 
of Dr. Cleaver, Bishop of Chester, the latter under that of Dr. Eveleigh. 
It is still greatly to be wished that the general expense, or rather ex- 
travagance, of young men at our English universities may be more 
effectually restrained. The expense, in which they are permitted to 
indulge, is inconsistent not only with a necessary degree of study, but 
with those habits of morality which should be promoted, by all means 
possible, at an early period of life. An academical education in 
England is at present an object of alarm and terror to every thinking 
parent of moderate fortune. It is the apprehension of the expense, of 
the dissipation, and other evil consequences, which arise from the want 
of proper restraint at our own universities, that forces a number of our 
English youths to those of Scotland, and utterly excludes many from 
any sort of academical instruction. If a charge be true, which I have 
heard insisted on, that the heads of our colleges in Oxford and 
Cambridge are vain of having under their care chiefly men of opulence, 
who may be supposed exempt from the necessity of economical control, 
they are indeed highly censurable ; since the mischief of allowing early 
habits of expense and dissipation is great, in various respects, even to 
those possessed of large property ; and the most serious evil from this 
indulgence must happen to youths of humbler fortune, who certainly 
form the majority of students both at Oxford and Cambridge. — S. 

Since these observations appeared, a sermon, with very copious notes, 
has been published by the Reverend Dr. Parr, wherein he complains 
of the scantiness of praise bestowed on those who were educated at the 
universities of England. I digressed merely to speak of the few heads 
of colleges of whom I had at that time heard, or with whom I was 
acquainted, and I did not allude to any others educated there. I have 
further to observe, that I have not met with any person who lived at 
the time to which Mr. Gibbon alludes, who was not of opinion that his 
representation, at least of his own college, was just: and such was the 
opinion of that accomplished, ingenious, and zealous friend of the 
university, the late Mr. Windham ; but every man, acquainted with the 
former and present state of the university, will acknowledge the vast 
improvements which have of late been introduced into the plan and 
conduct of education in the university. — S. 

A good education at Oxford might have made Gibbon a chris- 
G 3 



S() MEMOIRS OF CHAP. III. 

tian, and at what sacrifice would we not have purchased that result ! 
Yet perhaps, in all other respects, his laborious self-education better 
qualified him for a great historian. Self-instructed minds are rare, hut 
they are in general the best instructed. A mind like Gibbon's would 
be in danger of resentfully breaking loose from the trammels, I do not 
mean of salutary religious and moral discipline, but of a prescribed rule 
and plan of study, which would confine the insatiable appetite for 
research and variety of knowledge. — M. 

No. 3. page 83- 

See the advertisement to Lord Clarendon's "Religion and Policy," 
published at the Clarendon Press, 1811. It appears that the property 
is vested in certain trustees, who have probably found it impracticable 
to carry the intentions of the testator into effect. If, as I am in- 
formed, the riding-school depends in the least on the sale of the 
" Religion and Policy," the university is not likely soon to obtain 
instruction in that useful and manly exercise. — M 

No. 4. page 84. 

The total change which has taken place in the system of edu- 
cation at Oxford renders these observations of Gibbon, which I have 
understood from the best authority to be by no means exaggerated, 
matters of history. For that change I should be ungrateful, if I 
did not express my gratitude. This is not the place to enter into a 
discussion on the best plan of academical education, or on the com- 
parative merits of instruction by the lectures of professors, or the 
tutorial system as now maintained at Oxford. But it may be 
questioned whether, in becoming a more effective school ', Oxford 
has not abandoned more than is necessary the character of an uni- 
versity. The remedy appears to me extremely simple : the uni- 
versity should insist on the schools for earlier instruction performing 
their part in the work of education, and protect its tutors from being 
degraded into teachers of the rudiments of the learned languages, 
as is now too often the case, by making the examination oi\ ad- 
mission (as is done in some colleges) a real, not a formal one. If 
the pupils came to the university in the proper state of advancement, 
the examination for the degree might take place earlier ; and a lull 
year be reserved for those branches of knowledge, which arc best taught 
by professors in their lectures, and which do not now form a part in 
the regular course of academic instruction. — M. 



MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 87 



CHAP. IV. 

The Author is removed to Lausanne, and placed under the 
care of M. Pavilliard. — Reflections on his change of Situ- 
ation. — Character of M. Pavilliard, and an Account of 
his manner of restoring Mr. Gibbon to the Protestant 
Church. — Mr. Gibbon received the Sacrament in the 
Church of Lausanne on Christmas-day, 1754. — The Au- 
thor's Account of the Books he read, and of the Course of 
Study he pursued. — Makes the Tour of Switzerland ; 
forms a Correspondence icith several Literary Characters ; 
is introduced to Voltaire, and sees him perform several 
Characters in his own Plays. — Remarks on his Acting. — 
Some Account of Mademoiselle Curchod (afterwards Ma- 
dame Necker). — Reflections on his Education at Lausanne. 
— He returns to England. 

After carrying me to Putney, to the house of his 
friend Mr. Mallet 1 , by whose philosophy I was 
rather scandalized than reclaimed, it was necessary 
for my father to form a new plan of education, and 
to devise some method which, if possible, might 
effect the cure of my spiritual malady. After much 
debate it was determined, from the advice and per- 
sonal experience of Mr. Eliot (now Lord Eliot), 
to fix me, during some years, at Lausanne in Swit- 
zerland. Mr. Frey, a Swiss gentleman of Basil, 
undertook the conduct of the journey : we left 
London the 19th of June, crossed the sea from 

1 The author of a Life of Bacon, which has been rated above its 

value ; of some forgotten poems and plays ; and of the pathetic ballad 

of William and Margaret. — His tenets were deistical ; perhaps a 

stronger term might have been used. — S. 

G 4 



SS MEMOIRS OP CHAP. IV. 

Dover to Calais, travelled post through several pro- 
vince of France, by the direct road of St. Quentin, 
Rheims, Langres, and Besancon, and arrived the 
3Uth of June at Lausanne, where I was immedi- 
ately settled under the roof and tuition of Mr. Pa- 
villiard, a Calvinist minister. 

The first marks of my father's displeasure rather 
astonished than afflicted me : when he threatened 
to banish, and disown, and disinherit a rebellious 
son, I cherished a secret hope that he would not 
be able or willing to effect his menaces ; and the 
pride of conscience encouraged me to sustain the 
honourable and important part which I was now 
acting.* My spirits were raised and kept alive by 
the rapid motion of my journey, the new and 
various scenes of the Continent, and the civility of 
Mr. Frey, a man of sense, who was not ignorant 
of books or the world. But after he had resigned 
me into Pavilliard's hands, and I was fixed in my 
new habitation, I had leisure to contemplate the 
strange and melancholy prospect before me. My 
first complaint arose from my ignorance of the 



* " The son of an English pro- " ' ful society.' But the young man, 

" testant gentleman must, at all "still adhering with the pertina- 

" events, be cured of popery. For " city of a confessor to his catho- 

" this purpose the method em- " lie principles, was, after some 

•' ployed by his father, who appears " months, removed into the family 

"to have been a capricious and "of a Swiss minister, where he be- 

"ill-judging man, resembles the "held Christianity under a third 

" unskilful process in medicine by "modification, poor, and gloomy, 

" which a painful disorder, after " and squalid, devoid of what he 

"being dislodged from the ex- " accounted the decent and gentle- 

" tremities, i-> thrown upon the "manlj indifference of the Church 

'• vital parts. Young Gibbon was "of England, or the gorgeous and 

" placed under the care of Mallet, "imposing exterior of that of 

"the publisher of the works of "Rome." — Whitaker (the historian 

" Bolingbroke, a deist at best, but of Craven), in Quarterly Review, 

" probably s ething more, and vol. xii. p. 377. — M. 

'■ worse. Now, this was ' worship- 



CHAP. IV. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 89 

language. In my childhood I had once studied 
the French grammar, and I could imperfectly un- 
derstand the easy prose of a familiar subject. But 
when I was thus suddenly cast on a foreign land, I 
found myself deprived of the use of speech and of 
hearing ; and, during some weeks, incapable not 
only of enjoying the pleasures of conversation, but 
even of asking or answering a question in the 
common intercourse of life. To a home-bred 
Englishman every object, every custom was of- 
fensive ; but the native of any country might have 
been disgusted by the general aspect of his 
lodging and entertainment. I had now exchanged 
my elegant apartment in Magdalen College, for a 
narrow, gloomy street, the most unfrequented of 
an unhandsome town, for an old inconvenient 
house, and for a small chamber ill-contrived and 
ill-furnished, which on the approach of Winter, 
instead of a companionable fire, must be warmed 
by the dull invisible heat of a stove. From a man 
I was again degraded to the dependance of a school- 
boy. Mr. Pavilliard managed my expenses, which 
had been reduced to a diminutive state : I received 
a small monthly allowance for my pocket-money ; 
and helpless and awkward as I have ever been, I 
no longer enjoyed the indispensable comfort of a 
servant. My condition seemed as destitute of hope, 
as it was devoid of pleasure : I was separated for 
an indefinite, which appeared an infinite term from 
my native country ; and I had lost all connection 
with my catholic friends. I have since reflected 
with surprise, that as the Romish clergy of every 
part of Europe maintain a close correspondence 



90 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. IV. 

with each other, they never attempted, by letters 
Of messages, to rescue me from the hands of the 
heretics, or at least to confirm my zeal and con- 
stancy in the profession of the faith. Such was my 
first introduction to Lausanne ; a place where I 
spent nearly five years with pleasure and profit, 
which I afterwards revisited without compulsion, 
and which I have finally selected as the most 
grateful retreat for the decline of my life. 

But it is the peculiar felicity of youth that the 
most unpleasing objects and events seldom make 
a deep or lasting impression ; it forgets the past, 
enjoys the present, and anticipates the future. At 
the flexible age of sixteen I soon learned to 
endure, and gradually to adopt, the new forms of 
arbitrary manners : the real hardships of my situa- 
tion were alienated by time. Had I been sent 
abroad in a more splendid style, such as the fortune 
and bounty of my father might have supplied, I 
might have returned home with the same stock of 
language and science, which our countrymen 
usually import from the Continent. An exile and 
a prisoner as I was, their example betrayed me 
into some irregularities of wine, of play, and of 
idle excursions : but I soon felt the impossibility 
of associating with them on equal terms ; and 
after the departure of my first acquaintance, I held 
a cold and civil correspondence with their suc- 
cessors. This seclusion from English society was 
attended with the most solid benefits. In the 
Pays de Vaud t the French language is used with 
less imperfection than in most of the distant pro- 
vinces of France: in Pavillianl's. family, necessity 



CHAP. IV. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 91 

compelled me to listen and to speak ; and if I was 
at first disheartened by the apparent slowness, in 
a few months I was astonished by the rapidity of 
my progress. My pronunciation was formed by 
the constant repetition of the same sounds ; the 
variety of words and idioms, the rules of grammar, 
and distinctions of genders, were impressed in my 
memory : ease and freedom were obtained by 
practice ; correctness and elegance by labour ; 
and before I was recalled home, French, in which 
I spontaneously thought, was more familiar than 
English to my ear, my tongue, and my pen. The 
first effect of this opening knowledge was the re- 
vival of my love of reading, which had been chilled 
at Oxford j and I soon turned over, without much 
choice, almost all the French books in my tutor's 
library. Even these amusements were productive 
of real advantage : my taste and judgment were 
now somewhat riper. I was introduced to a new 
mode of style and literature ; by the comparison 
of manners and opinions, my views were enlarged, 
my prejudices were corrected, and a copious volun- 
tary abstract of the Histoire de VEglise et de 
V Empire, by le Sueur*, may be placed in a middle 
line between my childish and my manly studies. 
As soon as I was able to converse with the natives, 
I began to feel some satisfaction in their company : 



* Histoire de l'Eglise et de testant ; the work was not of very 

l'Empire,&c.&c. par Jean le Sueur, high pretensions, nor of merit ex- 

a Geneve, 1674. The first edition ceeding its pretensions. It was, I 

was in 4to., the second in 8 vols, believe, the common church his- 

12mo. It was reprinted, with a tory of the French protestant 

continuation by Benedict Pictet, clergy in Switzerland. — M. 
in 1730-2. Le Sueur was a pro- 



!) l 2 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. IV. 

my awkward timidity was polished and embol- 
dened; and I frequented for the first time as- 
semblies of men and women. The acquaintance 
of the Pavilliards prepared me by degrees for more 
elegant society. I was received with kindness and 
indulgence in the best families of Lausanne ; and 
it was in one of these that I formed an intimate 
and lasting connection with Mr. Deyverdun, a 
young man of an amiable temper and excellent un- 
derstanding. In the arts of fencing and dancing, 
small indeed was my proficiency ; and some months 
were idly wasted in the riding-school. My un- 
fitness to bodily exercise reconciled me to a se- 
dentary life, and the horse, the favourite of my 
countrymen, never contributed to the pleasures of 
my youth. 

My obligations to the lessons of Mr. Pavilliard, 
gratitude will not suffer me to forget : he was en- 
dowed with a clear head and a warm heart ; his 
innate benevolence had assuaged the spirit of the 
church ; he was rational, because he was moderate : 
in the course of his studies he had acquired a just 
though superficial knowledge of most branches of 
literature ; by long practice, he was skilled in the 
arts of teaching ; and he laboured with assiduous 
patience to know the character, gain the affection, 
and open the mind of his English pupil. (1) As 
soon as we began to understand each other, he 
gently led me, from a blind and undistinguishing 
love of reading, into the path of instruction. I 
consented with pleasure that a portion of the 
morning hours should be consecrated to a plan of 
modern history and geography, and to the critical 



CHAP. IV. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 93 

perusal of the French and Latin classics : and at 
each step I felt myself invigorated by the habits 
of application and method. His prudence repressed 
and dissembled some youthful sallies ; and as soon 
as I was confirmed in the habits of industry and 
temperance, he gave the reins into my own hands. 
His favourable report of my behaviour and pro- 
gress gradually obtained some latitude of action 
and expense ; and he wished to alleviate the hard- 
ships of my lodging and entertainment. The prin- 
ciples of philosophy were associated with the ex- 
amples of taste ; and by a singular chance, the 
book, as well as the man, which contributed the 
most effectually to my education, has a stronger 
claim on my gratitude than on my admiration. 
Mr. De Crousaz, the adversary of Bayle and Pope, 
is not distinguished by lively fancy or profound 
reflection ; and even in his own country, at the 
end of a few years, his name and writings are almost 
obliterated. But his philosophy had been formed 
in the school of Locke, his divinity in that of 
Limborch and Le Clerc j in a long and laborious 
life, several generations of pupils were taught to 
think, and even to write \ his lessons rescued the 
academy of Lausanne from Calvinistic prejudice ; 
and he had the rare merit of diffusing a more liberal 
spirit among the clergy and people of the Pays de 
Vaud. His system of logic, which in the last 
editions has swelled to six tedious and prolix 
volumes, may be praised as a clear and methodical 
abridgment of the art of reasoning, from our simple 
ideas to the most complex operations of the human 
understanding. This system I studied, and medi- 



9-1' MEMOIRS OF CHAP. IV. 

tated, and abstracted, till I obtained the free 
command of an universal instrument, which I 
soon presumed to exercise on my catholic opinions. 
Pavilliard was not unmindful that his first task, 
his most important duty, was to reclaim me from 
the errors of popery. The intermixture of sects 
has rendered the Swiss clergy acute and learned on 
the topics of controversy ; and I have some of his 
letters in which he celebrates the dexterity of his 
attack, and my gradual concessions, after a firm 
and well-managed defence.(2) I was willing, and 
I am now willing, to allow him a handsome share 
of the honour of my conversion : yet I must observe, 
that it was principally effected by my private re- 
flections; and I still remember my solitary transport 
at the discovery of a philosophical argument against 
the doctrine of transubstantiation : that the text 
of scripture, which seems to inculcate the real 
presence, is attested only by a single sense — our 
sight ; while the real presence itself is disproved by 
three of our senses — the sight, the touch, and the 
taste. The various articles of the Romish creed 
disappeared like a dream ; and after a full con- 
viction, on Christmas-day 17o4, I received the 
sacrament in the church of Lausanne. It was 
here that I suspended my religious inquiries, 
acquiescing with implicit belief in the tenets and 
mysteries, which are adopted by the general con- 
sent of catholics and protestants. 

Such, from my arrival at Lausanne, during the 
first eighteen or twenty months (July 1753 — March 
1755), were my useful studies, the foundation of 
all my future improvements. But every man who 



CHAP. IV. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 95 

rises above the common level has received two edu- 
cations : the first from his teachers j the second, 
more personal and important, from himself. He 
will not, like the fanatics of the last age, define the 
moment of grace ; but he cannot forget the zera of 
his life, in which his mind has expanded to its 
proper form and dimensions. My worthy tutor 
had the good sense and modesty to discern how far 
he could be useful : as soon as he felt that I ad- 
vanced beyond his speed and measure, he wisely 
left me to my genius ; and the hours of lesson were 
soon lost in the voluntary labour of the whole 
morning, and sometimes of the whole day. The 
desire of prolonging my time, gradually confirmed 
the salutary habit of early rising, to which I have 
always adhered, with some regard to seasons and 
situations : but it is happy for my eyes and my 
health, that my temperate ardour has never been 
seduced to trespass on the hours of the night. 
During the last three years of my residence at 
Lausanne, I may assume the merit of serious and 
solid application ; but I am tempted to distinguish 
the last eight months of the year 1755, as the period 
of the most extraordinary diligence and rapid 
progress. 2 In my French and Latin translations 

2 Journal, December 1755. — In finishing this year, I must re- 
mark how favourable it was to my studies. In the space of eight 
months, from the beginning of April, I learnt the principles of drawing; 
made myself complete master of the French and Latin languages, with 
which I was very superficially acquainted before, and wrote and trans- 
lated a great deal in both ; read Cicero's Epistles ad Familiares, his 
Brutus, all his Orations, his Dialogues de Amicitia, and De Senectute ; 
Terence, twice; and Pliny's Epistles. In French, Giannone's History 
of Naples, and l'Abbe Bannier's Mythology, and M. De Boehat's 
Memoires sur la Suisse, and wrote a very ample relation of my tour. 
I likewise began to study Greek, and went through the Grammar. I 
began to make very large collections of what I read. But what I es- 



( J() MEMOIRS OF CHAP. IV. 

I adopted an excellent method, which, from my 
own success, I would recommend to the imitation 
of students. I chose some classic writer, such as 
Cicero and Vertot, the most approved for purity 
and elegance of style. I translated, for instance, an 
epistle of Cicero into French ; and after throwing 
it aside, till the words and phrases were obliterated 
from my memory, I re-translated my French into 
such Latin as I could find ; and then compared 
each sentence of my imperfect version, with the 
ease, the grace, the propriety of the Roman orator. 
A similar experiment was made on several pages of 
the Revolutions of Vertot ; I turned them into 
Latin, returned them after a sufficient interval into 
my own French, and again scrutinized the re- 
semblance or dissimilitude of the copy and the ori- 
ginal. By degrees I was less ashamed, by degrees 
I was more satisfied with myself; and I persevered 
in the practice of these double translations, which 
filled several books, till I had acquired the knowledge 
of both idioms, and the command at least of a correct 
style. This useful exercise of writing was accom- 
panied and succeeded by the more pleasing occu- 
pation of reading the best authors. The perusal of 
the Roman classics was at once my exercise and 
reward. Dr. Middleton's History *, which I then 



teem most of all, from the perusal and meditation of De Crousaz's 
Logic, I not only understood the principles of that science, but Formed 
my mind to a habit of thinking and reasoning 1 bad no idea of 
before. 

* The irremediable defect of that it is grounded so much on 

Middleton's work, which from its those epistles which modern cri- 

finished style will continue probably ticism rejects with unhesitating 

to occupy this favoured ground, is, confidence.— M. 



CHAP. IV. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 97 

appreciated above its true value, naturally directed 
me to the writings of Cicero. The most perfect 
editions, that of Olivet, which may adorn the 
shelves of the rich, that of Ernesti, which should 
lie on the table of the learned, were not within my 
reach. For the familiar epistles I used the text 
and English commentary of Bishop Ross ; but my 
general edition was that of Verburgius, published 
at Amsterdam in two large volumes in folio, with 
an indifferent choice of various notes. I read, with 
application and pleasure, all the epistles, all the 
orations, and the most important treatises of rhe- 
toric and philosophy ; and as I read, I applauded 
the observation of Quintilian, that every student 
may judge of his own proficiency, by the satisfaction 
which he receives from the Roman orator. I tasted 
the beauties of language, I breathed the spirit of 
freedom, and I imbibed from his precepts and ex- 
amples the public and private sense of a man. Cicero 
in Latin, and Xenophon in Greek, are indeed the 
two ancients whom I would first propose to a liberal 
scholar ; not only for the merit of their style and 
sentiments, but for the admirable lessons, which 
may be applied almost to every situation of public 
and private life. Cicero's Epistles may in particular 
afford the models of every form of correspondence, 
from the careless effusions of tenderness and friend- 
ship, to the well-guarded declaration of discreet 
and dignified resentment. After finishing this great 
author, a library of eloquence and reason, I formed a 
more extensive plan of reviewing the Latin classics 3 , 

3 Journal, January 1756. — I determined to read over the Latin 
authors in order ; and read this year, Virgil, Sallust, Livy, Velleius 



[)b MEMOIRS 01 CHAP. IV. 

under the four divisions of, 1. historians, '2. poets, 
3. orators, and 4. philosophers, in a chronological 
series, from the days of Plautus and Sallust, to the 
decline of the language and empire of Rome : and 
this plan, in the last twenty-seven months of my re- 
sidence at Lausanne (January 1756 — April 17->8), 
I nearly accomplished. Nor was this review, how- 
ever rapid, either hasty or superficial. I indulged 
myself in a second and even a third perusal of 
Terence, Virgil, Horace, Tacitus, &c. and studied 
to imbibe the sense and spirit most congenial to 
my own. I never suffered a difficult or corrupt 
passage to escape, till I had viewed it in every light 
of which it was susceptible : though often disap- 
pointed, I always consulted the most learned or in- 
genious commentators, Torrentius and Dacier on 
Horace, Catrou and Servius on Virgil, Lipsius on 
Tacitus, Meziriac on Ovid, &c. ; and in the ardour 
of my inquiries, I embraced a large circle of his- 
torical and critical erudition. My abstracts of each 
book were made in the French language : my ob- 
servations often branched into particular essays ; 
and I can still read, without contempt, a dissertation 
of eight folio pages on eight lines ( C 2S7 — 291.) of 
the fourth Georgic of Virgil. Mr. Deyvcrdun, my 
friend, whose name will be frequently repeated, had 
joined with equal zeal, though not with equal per- 
severance, in the same undertaking. To him every 
thought, every composition, was instantly commu- 



Paterculus, Valerius Maximus, Tacitus, Suetonius, Quintus Curtius, 
Justin, Florus, Plautus, Terence, ami Lucretius. 1 also read and 
meditated Locke upon the Understanding. 



CHAP. IV. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 99 

nicated ; with him I enjoyed the benefits of a free 
conversation on the topics of our common studies. 
But it is scarcely possible for a mind endowed 
with any active curiosity to be long conversant with 
the Latin classics, without aspiring to know the 
Greek originals, whom they celebrate as their 
masters, and of whom they so warmly recommend 
the study and imitation ; 

Vos exemplars Graeca 

Nocturna versate manu, versate diurna. 

It was now that I regretted the early years which 
had been wasted in sickness or idleness, or mere 
idle reading ; that I condemned the perverse me- 
thod of our schoolmasters, who, by first teaching 
the mother language, might descend with so much 
ease and perspicuity to the origin and etymology 
of a derivative idiom. In the nineteenth year of 
my age I determined to supply this defect ; and the 
lessons of Pavilliard again contributed to smooth 
the entrance of the way, the Greek alphabet, the 
grammar, and the pronunciation according to the 
French accent. At my earnest request we pre- 
sumed to open the Iliad; and I had the pleasure of 
beholding, though darkly and through a glass, the 
true image of Homer, whom I had long since ad- 
mired in an English dress. After my tutor had left 
me to myself, I worked my way through about 
half the Iliad, and afterwards interpreted alone a 
large portion of Xenophon and Herodotus. But 
my ardour, destitute of aid and emulation, was 
gradually cooled, and, from the barren task of 
searching words in a lexicon, I withdrew to the 
free and familiar conversation of Virgil and Tacitus. 



100 ilOIRS 0] CHAP. IV. 

Yet in my residence at Lausanne I had laid a solid 
foundation, which enabled me, in a more propi- 
tious season, to prosecute the study of Grecian 
literature. 

From a blind idea of the usefulness of such ab- 
stract science, my father had been desirous, and 
even pressing, that I should devote some time to the 
mathematics(3) ; nor could I refuse to comply with so 
reasonable a wish. Duringtwo winters I attended the 
private lectures of Monsieur de Traytorrens, who 
explained the elements of algebra and geometry, 
as far as the conic sections of the Marquis de 
l'Hopital, and appeared satisfied with my dili- 
gence and improvement. 4 But as my childish 
propensity for numbers and calculations was totally 
extinct, I was content to receive the passive im- 
pression of my Professor's lectures, without any 
active exercise of my own powers. As soon as I 
understood the principles, I relinquished for ever 
the pursuit of the mathematics ; nor can I lament 
that I desisted, before my mind was hardened by 
the habit of rigid demonstration, so destructive of 
the finer feelings of moral evidence, which must, 
however, determine the actions and opinions of our 

•i Journal, January 1757. — I began to study algebra under M. de 
Traytorrens, went through the elements of algebra and geometry, and 
the three first hooks of the Marquis de I'Hopital's Conic Sections. 1 
also read Tibullus, Catullus, Propertius, Horace (with Dacier's and 
Torrentius's notes), Virgil, Ovid's Epistles, with Meziriac's Com- 
mentary, the Ars Amandi, and the Elegies; likewise the Augustus and 
Tiberius of Suetonius, and a Latin translation of Dion Cassius, from 
the death of Julius C&'sar to the death of Augustus. 1 also continued 
my correspondence begun last year with M. AJlamand oi' Bex, and the 
Professor Breitinger, of Zurich j andopeneda new one with the Pro- 
fessor Gesner of Gottingen. 

N.B. Last year and this, I read St. John's Gospel, with part of 
Xenophon's Cyropsediaj the Iliad, ;uul Herodotus: but, upon the 
whole, I rather neglected my Greek 



CHAP. IV. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 101 

lives. (4) I listened with more pleasure to the pro- 
posal of studying the law of nature and nations, 
which was taught in the academy of Lausanne by 
Mr. Vicat, a professor of some learning and repu- 
tation. But, instead of attending his public or pri- 
vate course, I preferred in my closet the lessons of 
his masters, and my own reason. Without being 
disgusted by Grotius or Puffendorf, I studied in 
their writings the duties of a man, the rights of a 
citizen, the theory of justice (it is, alas ! a theory), 
and the laws of peace and war, which have had 
some influence on the practice of modern Europe. 
My fatigues were alleviated by the good sense of 
their commentator Barbeyrac. Locke's Treatise of 
Government instructed me in the knowledge of 
Whig principles, which are rather founded in reason 
than experience ; but my delight was in the fre- 
quent perusal of Montesquieu, whose energy of 
style, and boldness of hypothesis, were powerful 
to awaken and stimulate the genius of the age. 
The logic of De Crousaz had prepared me to engage 
with his master Locke, and his antagonist Bayle ; 
of whom the former may be used as a bridle, and 
the latter as a spur, to the curiosity of a young 
philosopher. (5) According to the nature of their 
respective works, the schools of argument and ob- 
jection, I carefully went through the Essay on 
Human Understanding, and occasionally consulted 
the most interesting articles of the Philosophic Dic- 
tionary. In the infancy of my reason I turned over, 
as an idle amusement, the most serious and im- 
portant treatise : in its maturity, the most trifling 
performance could exercise my taste or judgment; 
h 3 



102 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. IV. 

and more than once I have been led by a novel into 
a deep and instructive train of thinking. But I 
cannot forbear to mention three particular books, 
since they may have remotely contributed to form 
the historian of the Roman empire. 1. From the 
Provincial letters of Pascal, which almost every 
year I have perused with new pleasure, I learned 
to manage the weapon of grave and temperate 
irony, even on subjects of ecclesiastical solemnity. ■ 
2. The Life of Julian, by the Abbe de la Bleterie, 
first introduced me to the man and the times ; and 
I should be glad to recover my first essay on the 
truth of the miracle which stopped the rebuilding 
of the temple of Jerusalem. 3. In Giannone's 
Civil History of Naples, I observed with a critical 
eye the progress and abuse of sacerdotal power, and 
the revolutions of Italy in the darker ages. This 
various reading, which I now conducted with dis- 
cretion, was digested, according to the precept and 
model of Mr. Locke, into a large common-place 
book ; a practice, however, which I do not strenu- 
ously recommend. The action of the pen will 
doubtless imprint an idea on the mind as well as 
on the paper : but I much question whether the 
benefits of this laborious method are adequate to 
the waste of time ; and I must agree with Dr. 
Johnson (Idler, No. 7k), "that what is twice read, 
is commonly better remembered, than what is 
transcribed." 

During two years, if I forget some boyish ex- 
cursions of a day or a week, I was fixed at Lau- 



* The sublime author of the rluencc of his own work on minds 
Pensres would have shuddered if like those of Voltaire ami Gibbon. 

he could have foreseen the in- — M. 






CHAP. IV. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 103 

sanne ; but at the end of the third summer, my 
father consented that I should make the tour of 
Switzerland with Pavilliard : and our short absence 
of one month (September 21st — October 20th, 
1755) was a reward and relaxation of my assiduous 
studies. (6) The fashion of climbing the mountains 
and reviewing the Glaciers, had not yet been in- 
troduced by foreign travellers, who seek the sub- 
lime beauties of nature. But the political face of 
the country is not less diversified by the forms and 
spirit of so many various republics, from the jealous 
government of the few to the licentious freedom 
of the many. I contemplated with pleasure the 
new prospects of men and manners ; though my 
conversation with the natives would have been 
more free and instructive, had I possessed the 
German, as well as the French language. We 
passed through most of the principal towns in Swit- 
zerland; Neufchatel, Bienne, Soleurre, Arau,Baden, 
Zurich, Basil, and Bern. In every place we visited 
the churches, arsenals, libraries, and all the most 
eminent persons ; and after my return, I digested 
my notes in fourteen or fifteen sheets of a French 
journal, which I dispatched to my father, as a proof 
that my time and his money had not been mis- 
spent. Had I found this journal among his papers, 
I might be tempted to select some passages ; but I 
will not transcribe the printed accounts, and it may 
be sufficient to notice a remarkable spot, which 
left a deep and lasting impression on my memory. 
From Zurich we proceeded to the Benedictine 
Abbey of Einsidlen, more commonly styled Our 
Lady of the Hermits. I was astonished by the 
h 4 



104 MEMOIRS 01 (HAP. IV. 

profuse ostentation of riches in the poorest corner 
of Europe ; amidst a savage scene of woods and 
mountains, a palace appears to have been erected 
by magic ; and it was erected by the potent magic 
of religion. A crowd of palmers and votaries was 
prostrate before the altar. The title and worship 
of the Mother of God provoked my indignation ; 
and the lively naked image of superstition sug- 
gested to me, as in the same place it had done to 
Zuinglius, the most pressing argument for the re- 
formation of the church. About two years after 
this tour, I passed at Geneva a useful and agree- 
able month ; but this excursion and some short 
visits in the Pays de Vaud, did not materially in- 
terrupt my studious and sedentary life at Lau- 
sanne. 

My thirst of improvement, and the languid state 
of science at Lausanne, soon prompted me to solicit 
a literary correspondence with several men of 
learning, whom I had not an opportunity of per- 
sonally consulting. 1. In the perusal of Livy 
(xxx. 44.), I had been stopped by a sentence in a 
speech of Hannibal, which cannot be reconciled 
by any torture with his character or argument. 
The commentators dissemble or confess their per- 
plexity. It occurred to me, that the change of a 
single letter, by substituting ot/'o instead of odio, 
might restore a clear and consistent sense ; but I 
wished to weigh my emendation in scales less 
partial than my own. I addressed myself to 
M. Crevier', the successor of Rollin, and a pro- 
fessor in the university of Paris, who had published 

: ' See Appendix, Letters, No. [ 



CHAP. IV. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 105 

a large and valuable edition of Livy. His answer 
was speedy and polite ; he praised my ingenuity, 
and adopted my conjecture. 2. I maintained a 
Latin correspondence, at first anonymous, and after- 
wards in my own name, with professor Breitinger 6 
of Zurich, the learned editor of a Septuagint Bible. 
In our frequent letters we discussed many questions 
of antiquity, many passages of the Latin classics. 
I proposed my interpretations and amendments. 
His censures, for he did not spare my boldness of 
conjecture, were sharp and strong ; and I was en- 
couraged by the consciousness of my strength, 
when I could stand in free debate against a critic 
of such eminence and erudition. 3. 1 corresponded 
on similar topics with the celebrated Professor 
Matthew Gesner 7 , of the university of Gottingen ; 
and he accepted as courteously as the two former, 
the invitation of an unknown youth. But his 
abilities might possibly be decayed ; his elaborate 
letters were feeble and prolix j and when I asked 
his proper direction, the vain old man covered half 
a sheet of paper with the foolish enumeration of his 
titles and offices. 4. These Professors of Paris, 
Zurich, and Gottingen were strangers, whom I pre- 
sumed to address on the credit of their name ; 
but Mr. Allamand 8 , Minister at Bex, was my per- 
sonal friend, with whom I maintained a more free 
and interesting correspondence. He was a master of 

6 See Appendix, Letters, No. IV. and V. 
i Ditto, No. VI. VII. and VIII. 
s Ditto, No. II. and III* 



* These references are to the this volume letters of more general 
Miscellaneous works of Gibbon. I interest. — M. 
have thought it better to select for 



106 MEMOIRS OF CHAP.m 

language, of science, and, above all, of dispute ; and 
his acute and flexible logic could support, with 
equal address, and perhaps with equal indifference, 
the adverse sides of every possible question. His 
spirit was active, but his pen had been indolent. 
Mr. Allamand had exposed himself to much scandal 
and reproach, by an anonymous letter (1745) to the 
Protestants of France ; in which he labours to per- 
suade them that public worship is the exclusive 
right and duty of the state, and that their nume- 
rous assemblies of dissenters and rebels were not 
authorised by the law or the gospel. His style is 
animated, his arguments specious; and if the papist 
may seem to lurk under the mask of a protestant, 
the philosopher is concealed under the disguise of 
a papist. After some trials in France and Holland, 
which were defeated by his fortune or his character, 
a genius that might have enlightened or deluded 
the world, was buried in a country living, unknown 
to fame, and discontented with mankind. Est s<i- 
crificulus in pago, et rusticos decipit. As often as 
private or ecclesiastical business called him to Lau- 
sanne, I enjoyed the pleasure and benefit of his 
conversation, and we were mutually flattered by our 
attention to each other. Our correspondence, in 
his absence, chiefly turned on Locke's metaphysics*, 



*" One of these (M. Allamand), be still read with advantage by 
the friend and correspondent of many logicians of no small note in 
Gibbon, deserves particularly to the learned world. Had those 
be noticed here, on account of two letters happened to have sooner 
letters, published in the posthu- attracted my attention, I should 
mous works of thai historian, con- nol have delayed so long to do 
taining a criticism on Locke's this tardy justice to their merits." 
arguments against innate ideas, so Dugald Stewart, Preface to En- 
very able and judicious, that it may cyclop., \ol. ii. p. 13. — INI. 



CHAP. IV. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 107 

which he attacked, and I defended ; the origin of 
ideas, the principles of evidence, and the doctrine 
of liberty ; 

And found no end, in wandering mazes lost. 

By fencing with so skilful a master, I acquired 
some dexterity in the use of my philosophic wea- 
pons ; but I was still the slave of education and 
prejudice. He had some measures to keep ; and I 
much suspect that he never showed me the true 
colours of his secret scepticism. 

Before I was recalled from Switzerland, I had the 
satisfaction of seeing the most extraordinary man 
of the age ; a poet, an historian, a philosopher, 
who has rilled thirty quartos, of prose and verse, 
with his various productions, often excellent, and 
always entertaining. Need I add the name of 
Voltaire ? After forfeiting, by his own miscon- 
duct, the friendship of the first of kings, he retired, 
at the age of sixty, with a plentiful fortune, to a 
free and beautiful country, and resided two win- 
ters (1757 and 1758) in the town or neighbourhood 
of Lausanne. My desire of beholding Voltaire, 
whom I then rated above his real magnitude, was 
easily gratified. He received me with civility as 
an English youth ; but I cannot boast of any pecu- 
liar notice or distinction, T^irgilium vidi tantum.* 



* " J'ai ete pendant quatorze depart, excepteunpretreE'cossais, 

ans l'aubergiste de l'Europe, et je nomme Brown, ennemi de M. 

me suis lasse de cette profession ; Hume, qui a ecrit contre moi, et 

j'ai recu chez moi trois ou quatre qui m'a reproche d'aller a confesse, 

cents Anglais, qui sont si amoureux ce qui est assurement bien dur." 

de leur patrie, que presque pas un Voltaire a Madame du Deffand, 

ne s'est souvenu de moi apres son vol. i. p. 219. — M. 



10S MEMOIRS OF CHAP. IV. 

The ode which he composed on his first arrival 
on the banks of the Lcman Lake, Maison 
tPAristippe ! Jardin d' Epicure, &c., had been 
imparted as a secret to the gentleman by whom I 
was introduced. He allowed me to read it twice ; 
I knew it by heart ; and as my discretion was not 
equal to my memory, the author was soon dis- 
pleased by the circulation of a copy. In writing 
this trivial anecdote, I wished to observe whether 
my memory was impaired, and I have the comfort 
of finding that every line of the poem is still en- 
graved in fresh and indelible characters. The 
highest gratification which I derived from Voltaire's 
residence at Lausanne, was the uncommon cir- 
cumstance of hearing a great poet declaim his own 
productions on the stage. He had formed a com- 
pany of gentlemen and ladies, some of whom were 
not destitute of talents. A decent theatre was 
framed at Monrepos, a country-house at the end of 
a suburb ; dresses and scenes were provided at the 
expense of the actors ; and the author directed the 
rehearsals with the zeal and attention of paternal 
love. In two successive winters his tragedies of 
Zayre, Alzire, Zulime, and his sentimental comedy 
of the Enfant Prodigue, were played at the 
theatre of Monrepos. Voltaire represented the 
characters best adapted to his years, Lusignan, 
Alvarez, Benassar, Euphemon. His declamation 
was fashioned to the pomp and cadence of the old 
stage; and he expressed the enthusiasm of poetry, 
rather than the feelings of nature. My ardour, 
which soon became conspicuous, seldom failed o( 
procuring me a ticket. The habits of pleasure 



CHAP. IV. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 109 

fortified my taste for the French theatre, and that 
taste has perhaps abated my idolatry for the gigan- 
tic genius of Shakespeare, which is inculcated 
from our infancy as the first duty of an Englishman. 
The wit and philosophy of Voltaire, his table and 
theatre, refined, in a visible degree, the manners 
of Lausanne ; and, however addicted to study, I 
enjoyed my share of the amusements of society. 
After the representation of Monrepos I sometimes 
supped with the actors. I was now familiar in 
some, and acquainted in many, houses; and my 
evenings were generally devoted to cards and con- 
versation either in private parties or numerous 
assemblies. 

I hesitate, from the apprehension of ridicule, 
when I approach the delicate subject of my early 
love. By this word I do not mean the polite at- 
tention, the gallantry, without hope or design, 
which has originated in the spirit of chivalry, and 
is interwoven with the texture of French manners. 
I understand by this passion the union of desire, 
friendship, and tenderness, which is inflamed by a 
single female, which prefers her to the rest of her 
sex, and which seeks her possession as the supreme 
or the sole happiness of our being. I need not 
blush at recollecting the object of my choice ; and 
though my love was disappointed of success, I am 
rather proud that I was once capable of feeling 
such a pure and exalted sentiment. The personal 
attractions of Mademoiselle Susan Curchod were 
embellished by the virtues and talents of the mind. 
Her fortune was humble, but her family was re- 
spectable. Her mother, a native of France, had 



110 MEMOIRS 01 CHAP. IV. 

preferred her religion to her country. The pro- 
fession of her father did not extinguish the mode- 
ration and philosophy of his temper, and he lived 
content with a small salary and laborious duty in 
the obscure lot of minister of Crassy, in the 
mountains that separate the Pays de Vaud from 
the county of Burgundy. (7) In the solitude of a 
sequestered village he bestowed a liberal, and even 
learned, education on his only daughter. She 
surpassed his hopes by her proficiency in the 
sciences and languages ; and in her short visits to 
some relations at Lausanne, the wit, the beauty, 
and erudition of Mademoiselle Curchod were the 
theme of universal applause. The report of such 
a prodigy awakened my curiosity; I saw and loved. 
I found her learned without pedantry, lively in 
conversation, pure in sentiment, and elegant in 
manners; and the first sudden emotion was fortified 
by the habits and knowledge of a more familiar 
acquaintance. She permitted me to make her two 
or three visits at her father's house. I passed some 
happy days there, in the mountains of Burgundy, 
and her parents honourably encouraged the con- 
nection. In a calm retirement the gay vanity of 
youth no longer fluttered in her bosom ; she listened 
to the voice of truth and passion, and I might 
presume to hope that I had made some impression 
on a virtuous heart. At Crassy and Lausanne I 
indulged my dream of felicity : but on my return 
to England, I soon discovered that my father 
would not hear of this strange alliance, and that 
without his consent I was myself destitute and 
helpless. After a painful struggle I yielded to my 



CHAP. IV. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. Ill 

fate : I sighed as a lover, I obeyed as a son 9 ; (8) 
my wound was insensibly healed by time, absence, 
and the habits of a new life. My cure was acce- 
lerated by a faithful report of the tranquillity and 
cheerfulness of the lady herself, and my love sub- 
sided in friendship and esteem. The minister of 
Crassy soon afterwards died ; his stipend died with 
him : his daughter retired to Geneva, where, by 
teaching young ladies, she earned a hard subsistence 
for herself and her mother ; but in her lowest 
distress she maintained a spotless reputation, and a 
dignified behaviour. A rich banker of Paris, a 
citizen of Geneva, had the good fortune and good 
sense to discover and possess this inestimable 
treasure ; and in the capital of taste and luxury she 
resisted the temptations of wealth, as she had sus- 
tained the hardships of indigence. The genius of 
her husband has exalted him to the most con- 
spicuous station in Europe. In every change of 
prosperity and disgrace he has reclined on the 
bosom of a faithful friend ; and Mademoiselle 
Curchod is now the wife of M. Necker, the minister, 
and perhaps the legislator, of the French mo- 
narchy. (10) 

Whatsoever have been the fruits of my education, 
they must be ascribed to the fortunate banishment 
which placed me at Lausanne. I have sometimes 
applied to my own fate the verses of Pindar, which 
remind an Olympic champion that his victory was 

o See GEuvres de Rousseau, torn, xxxiii. p. 88, 89. octavo edition. 
As an author, I shall not appeal from the judgment, or taste, or caprice 
of Jean Jacques : but that extraordinary man, whom I admire and pity, 
should have been less precipitate in condemning the moral character 
and conduct of a stranger. (9) 



1 12 MEMOIRS 01 CHAP. IV. 

the consequence of his exile ; and that at home, 
like a domestic fowl, his days might haw- rolled 
away inactive or inglorious. 

Tyrol Kal rid kiv, 
'EvSopuxag tir £KiKTWp t 
Evyy6vtp trap iariq 
'AkXitiq rifid KaTE<f>vXKop6rjcn ~ 
Ei firj a-uvtc avri&vttpa 
KviDoiag dpipat narpaq.* Olymp. xii. 

If my childish revolt against the religion of my 
country had not stripped me in time of my aca- 
demic gown, the five important years, so liberally 
improved in the studies and conversation of Lau- 
sanne, w 7 ould have been steeped in port and pre- 
judice among the monks of Oxford. Had the 
fatigue of idleness compelled me to read, the path 
of learning would not have been enlightened by a 
ray of philosophic freedom. I should have grown 
to manhood ignorant of the life and language of 
Europe, and my knowledge of the world would 
have been confined to an English cloister. But my 
religious error fixed me at Lausanne, in a state of 
banishment and disgrace. The rigid course of 
discipline and abstinence, to which I was con- 
demned, invigorated the constitution of my mind 
and body ; poverty and pride estranged me from 
my countrymen. One mischief, however, and in 

* Thus, like the crested bird of Mars, at home 

Engag'd in foul domestic jars, 

And Masted with intestine wars, 

Inglorious hadst thou spent thy vig'rous bloom ; 

Had QOl sedition's civil broils 

Expell'd thee from thy native Crete, 
And clriv'n thee with more glorious toils 
Th' Olympic crown in Pisa's plain to meet. West's Pind, 



CHAP. IV. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 113 

their eyes a serious and irreparable mischief, was 
derived from the success of my Swiss education : 
I had ceased to be an Englishman. At the flexible 
period of youth, from the age of sixteen to twenty- 
one, my opinions, habits, and sentiments were cast 
in a foreign mould ; the faint and distant remem- 
brance of England was almost obliterated ; my 
native language was grown less familiar ; and I 
should have cheerfully accepted the offer of a mo- 
derate independence on the terms of perpetual 
exile. By the good sense and temper of Pavilliard 
my yoke was insensibly lightened : he left me 
master of my time and actions ; but he could 
neither change my situation, nor increase my 
allowance, and with the progress of my years and 
reason I impatiently sighed for the moment of my 
deliverance. At length, in the Spring of the year 
one thousand seven hundred and fifty-eight, my 
father signified his permission and his pleasure that 
I should immediately return home. We were then 
in the midst of a war : the resentment of the French 
at our taking their ships without a declaration, had 
rendered that polite nation somewhat peevish and 
difficult. They denied a passage to English tra- 
vellers, and the road through Germany was cir- 
cuitous, toilsome, and perhaps in the neighbour- 
hood of the armies exposed to some danger. In this 
perplexity, two Swiss officers of my acquaintance 
in the Dutch service, who were returning to their 
garrisons, offered to conduct me through France as 
one of their companions ; nor did we sufficiently 
reflect that my borrowed name and regimentals 
might have been considered, in case of a discovery, 
i 



114 MEMOIRS OI- MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 

in a very serious light I took my leave of Lau- 
sanne on the 1 1 tli April 1758, with a mixture of 

joy and regret, in the firm resolution of revisiting, 
as a man, the persons and places which had been 
so dear to my youth. We travelled slowly, but 
pleasantly, in a hired coach, over the hills of 
Franche-compte and the fertile province of Lor- 
raine, and passed, without accident or inquiry, 
through several fortified towns of the French 
frontier : from thence we entered the wild Ar- 
dennes of the Austrian duchy of Luxemburg ; 
and after crossing the Meuse at Liege, we tra- 
versed the heaths of Brabant, and reached, on the 
fifteenth day, our Dutch garrison of Bois le Due. 
In our passage through Nancy, my eye was grati- 
fied by the aspect of a regular and beautiful city, 
the work of Stanislaus, who, after the storms of 
. Polish royalty, reposed in the love and gratitude of 
his new subjects of Lorraine. In our halt at Maes- 
tricht I visited Mr. De Beaufort, a learned critic, 
who was known to me by his specious arguments 
against the five first centuries of the Roman 
History.* After dropping my regimental com- 
panions, I stepped aside to visit Rotterdam and the 
Hague. I wished to have observed a country, the 
monument of freedom and industry ; but my days 
were numbered, and a longer delay would have 
been ungraceful. I hastened to embark at the 



* Gibbon expresses himself can- scarcely inferior acuteness, for 

tiously upon this remarkable work the inquiries of Niebuhr ; the more 

of M. Beaufort, which in the de~ difficult and more questionable task 

itructive part of the discussion of reconstruction was left tor the 

led the way, in some parts, with bold and inventive German. 



CHAP. IV. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 115 

Brill, landed the next day at Harwich, and pro- 
ceeded to London, where my father awaited my 
arrival. The whole term of my first absence from 
England was four.years, ten months, and fifteen 
days. 



NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 

No. 1. page 92. 

Extract of a Letter from Mr. Pavilliard to Edward Gibbon, Esq. 

A v Lausanne, ce 25 Juillet 1753. 

Monsieur de Gibbon se porte tres bien par la grace de Dieu, et il 
me paroit qu'il ne se trouve pas mal de notre Maison ; j'ai meme lieu 
de penser qu'il prend de 1'attachement pour moi, ce dont je suis charme, 
et que je travaillerai a augmenter, parcequ'il aura plus de confiance en 
moi, dans ce que je me propose de lui dire. 

Je n'ai point encore entrepris de lui parler sur les matieres de religion, 
parceque je n'entends pas assez la langue Angloise pour soutenir une 
longue conversation en cette langue, quoique je lise les auteurs Anglois 
avec assez de facilite ; et Monsieur de Gibbon n'entend pas assez de 
Francois, mais il y fait beaucoup de progres. 

Je suis fort content de la politesse et de la douceur de caractere de 
Monsieur votre fils, et je me flatte que je pourrai toujours vous parler 
de lui avec eloge ; il s'applique beaucoup a la lecture. 

From Mr. Pavilliard to Edward Gibbon, Esq. 

A v Lausanne, ce 13 Aout 1753. 
Monsieur de Gibbon se porte bien par la grace de Dieu ; je l'aime, 
et jeme suis extremement attache a lui parcequ'il est doux et tranquille. 
Pour ce qui regarde ses sentimens, quoique je ne lui aye encore rien 
dit la-dessus, j'ai lieu d'esperer qu'il ouvrira les yeux a la verite. Je le 
pense ainsi, parcequ'etant dans mon cabinet, il a choisi deux livres de 
controversie qu'il a pris dans sa chambre, et qu'il les lit. II m'a charge 
I 2 



116 MEMOIRS <>1 Ml LIFE AND WRITINGS. 

de vous offrir ses trcs humbles respects, et de vous demandcr la per- 
mission de le laisser monter au manege : cet exercice pourroit contri- 
buer a donner tie la force a son corps, e'est lldee qu'il en a. 



From Mr. Pavilliard to Edward Gibbon, Esq. 

Monsieur, A' Lausanne, ce 31 Octobre 1753. 

Depuis ma lettre du 15me Aout, je recus le 18me du meme mois la 
lettre que vous m'avez fait l'honneur de m'ecrire en datte du 24-e Juillet- 
Je l'ai lue avec attention : permettez moi de vous marquer les reflexions 
que j'y ai fait. 

Vous souhaitez que je tienne Monsieur votre fils a la maison attache 
a ses etudes, et qu'il sorte pen. Vous etes pere, par la meme, Mon- 
sieur, vous avez droit de prescrire la maniere dont vous voulez qu'on 
le conduise. Sans doute vous ne prenez ce parti, que parceque vous 
croyez qu'on reussira mieux par cette voie, a le ramener des prejuges 
auxquels il s'est livre. Mais je vous prie de considerer que Monsieur 
votre fils est d'un caractere serieux, qu'il se plait a reflechir, qu'etant 
dans sa chambre occupe a lire, il suivra ses idees, et il s'y attachera 
toujours plus, parceque personne ne le contredira : d'ailleurs regardant 
comme une peine l'obligation qu'on lui impose, il sera toujours menus 
porte a. ecouter favorablement ce que je lui dirai : il envisagera tous mes 
discours, comme venant d'un homme qui est dans des idees qu'il desap- 
prouve, et qui veut, cependant, les lui faire recevoir, parcequ'il est paie 
pour cela. 

Je crois, Monsieur, qu'il seroit plus a propos de le distraire un peu, 
de l'egaier un peu, pour lui faire passer ce qu'il a de trop sombre dans 
le caractere : en voyant bonne compagnie, il appercevroit qu'on pease 
juste sur bien de sujets : il s'accoutumeroit a etre contredit quelqaefois, 
et a ceder aussi dans l'occasion, il examineroit avec plus de soin et 
avec moins de preoccupation les principes qu'il adopte, et les voyant 
souvent condamnes par des pcrsonnes qu'il voit qui ont du gout pom- 
la verite, il nc les regarderoit pas comme infaillibles, et convaincu qu'on 
ne le bait pas a cause de ses sentiments, il eeoutcroit ce qu'on lui diroit 
avec plus de confiance. Tout ce que je viens de dire est une suite des 
remarques que j'ai fait sur sou caractere, et sur ce que vous m'avez 
fait l'honneur de m'en dire dans votre lettre. Je me suis appercu qu'il 
etoit attache au parti du Pretendant : il s'enest declare assez ouverte- 
ment duns la suite. J'ai combattu ses idees sans faire semblant que 
e'etoit les siennes, et sans marquer aucune intention do lui faire de la 
peine: il a replique plusieurs lois, mais a la (in j'ai tellement renverse' 
tous ses raisonnemens qu'il n'en parle plus, et qu'il s'exprime sur le 
sujel do roi d'une maniere bien dififerente de ce qu'il faisoit antrefois. 



CHAP. IV. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 117 

Je n'assurerai pas cependant qu'il ait entieremcnt change d'idees, parce- 
qu'il parle peu, et que je n'ai pas voulu faire connoitre que j'avois dessein 
de I'emporter sur lui. 

Monsieur, 

Votre tres humble et obeissant Serviteur, 

PAVILLIARD, Pasteur. 



No. 2. page 94. 

M. Pavilliard has described to me the astonishment with which he 
gazed on Mr. Gibbon standing before him : a thin little figure, with a 
large head, disputing and urging, with the greatest ability, all the best 
arguments that had ever been used in favour of popery. Mr. Gibbon 
many years ago became very fat and corpulent, but he had uncommonly 
small bones, and was very slightly made. — S. 



1 Letter from Mr. Pavilliard to Edward Gibbon, Esq. 

Monsieur, Juin26. 1754. 

J'espere que vous pardonnerez mon long silence en faveur des 
nouvelles que j'ai a vous apprendre. Si j'ai tant tarde, ce n'a ete ni 
par oubli, ni par negligence, mais je croyois de semaine en semaine 
pouvoir vous annoncer que Monsieur votre fils avoit entierement 
renonce aux fausses idees qu'il avoit embrassees ; mais il a fallu disputer 
le terrein pied a pied, et je n'ai pas trouve en lui un homme leger, et 
qui passe rapidement d'un sentiment a un autre. Souvent apres avoir 
detruit toutes ses idees sur un article, de maniere qu'il n'avoit rien 
a repliquer, ce qu'il avouoit sans detour, il me disoit qu'il ne croioit pas 
qu'il n'y eut rien a me repondre. La-dessus je n'ai pas juge qu'il falliit 
le pousser a bout, et extorquer de lui un aveu que son cceur desa- 
voueroit ; je lui donnois alors du terns pour reflechir ; tous mes livres 
etoient a sa disposition ; je revenois a la charge quand il m'avouoit 
qu'il avoit etudie la matiere aussi bien qu'il l'avoit pu, et enfin 
j'etablissois une verite. 

Je me persuadois que quand j'aurois detruit les principales erreurs 
de l'eglise Romaine, je n'aurois qu'a faire voir que les autres sont des 
consequences des premieres, et qu'elles ne peuvent subsister quand les 
fondamentales sont renversees ; mais, comme je l'ai dit, je me suis 
trompe, il a fallu traiter chaque article dans son entier. Par la grace 
de Dicu, je n'ai pas perdu mon tems, et aujourdhni, si meme il conserve 
quelques restes de ses pernicieuses erreurs, j'ose dire qu'il n'est plus 
membre de l'eglise Romaine ; voici done ou nous en sommes. 

J'ai renverse l'infaillibilite de l'eglise ; j'ai prouve que jamais St. 
Pierre n'a ete chef des apotres ; que quand il l'auroit ete, le pape n'est 

i 3 



118 MEMOIRS OP MY LIFE AND WHITINGS. 

point son sticcesscur ; qu'il est cloutcux que St. Pierre ait jamais etc a 
Rome, mais suppose qa'iJ y ait l ■ t «.'• , il n'apas ete eveque tic cette vflle: 
que la transubstantiation est une invention humaine, et pen aiu-icnne 
dans I'eglise ; que 1'adoration ile rEuehariste et le retranchement tie la 
coupe sont contraires a la ])arolc cle Dieu : qu'D y a ties saints, mais 
que nous ne savons pas qui ils sont, et par consequent qu'on ne pcut 
pas les prier ; que le respect et le culte qu'on rend aux reliques est 
condamnable ; qu'il n'y a point de purgatoire, et que la doctrine ties 
indulgences est fausse ; que le Careme et les jeunes du Vendredi et du 
Samedi sont ridicules aujourdhui, et de la maniere que I'eglise Romaine 
les prescrit : que les imputations que I'eglise de Rome nous fait de 
varier dans notre doctrine, et d'avoir pour reformateurs des personnes 
tlont la conduite et les moeurs ont ete un scandale, sont entierement 
fausses. 

Vous comprenez bien, Monsieur, que ces articles sont d'une longuc 
discussion, qu'il a fallu du terns a Monsieur votre fils pour mediter mes 
raisons, et pour y chercher des reponses. Je lui ai demande plusieurs 
fois si mes preuves et mes raisons lui paroissoient convainquantcs ; il 
rn'a toujours assure qu'oui, tie facon que j'ose assurer aussi, comme je le 
lui ai dit a lui-meme il y a peu de terns, qu'il n'etoit plus catholique 
Romain. Je me flatte qu'apres avoir obtenu la victoire sur ces articles, 
je l'aurai sur le reste avec le secours tie Dieu. Tellement que je compte 
vous marquer dans peu que cette ouvrage est fini ; je dois vous dire 
encore que, quoique j'ai trouve Monsieur votre fils tres ferme dans scs 
idees, je l'ai trouve raisonnable, qu'il s'est rendu a la lumiere, et qu'il 
u'est pas ce qu'on appelle chicaneur. Par rapport a 1'article du jeunc le 
Vendredi et Samedi, long terns apres queje vous eus ecrit qu'il n'avoit 
jamais marque qu'il voulut l'observer, environs le commencement du 
mois de Mars je m'appereus un Vendredi qu'il ne mangeoit point de 
viande; je lui parlai en particulier pour en savoir la raison, craignant 
que ce ne fut par indisposition. 1\ me repondit qu'il l'avoit fait a dessein, 
et qu'il avoit cru etre oblige de se conformcr a la pratique d'une eglise 
dont il etoit membre : nous parlames quelquc terns sur ce sujet ; il 
m'assnra qu'il n'envisageoit cela que comme une pratique bonne a la 
verite.et qu'il devoit suivre, quoiqu'il ne la crut pas sainte en elle meme, 
ni d'institution divine. Je ne cms pas devoir insister pour lors, ni le 
forcer a agir contre ses lumieres : j'ai traite cct article qui est cer- 
tainement un des moins importans, des moins fondes; et cependant 
il m'a fallu un terns considerable pour le d&romper, et pour lui faire 
comprendre qu'il avoit tort de s'assujettir a la pratique d'une eglise 
qu'il ne rcconnoissoit plus pour infaillible; que si meme cette pratique 
avoit cu quelquc utilite dans son institution, cependant elle n'en avoit 
aucune en elle meme, puisqu'elle ne contribuoit en rien a la purete* des 
moeurs, qu'ainsi il n\ avoif aucune raison, ni dans ['institution de cette 
pratique, ni dans la pratique elle meme, qui l'autorisat a s'y soumettre: 
qu'aujourdhui ce n'etoit qu'une affaire d'interet, puisqu'avec de I'argent 



CHAP. IV. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 119 

on obtenoit dcs dispenses pour manger gras, &c. de maniere que je l'ai 
ramene a la liberte Chretienne avec beaucoup de peine et seulement 
depuis quelques semaines. Je l'ai engage a vous ecrire, pour vous 
manifester les sentimena oii il est, et l'etat de sa sante ; et je crois qu'il 
1'a fait. 



From Mr. Gibbon to Mrs. Porter. 

Dear Madam, 
I have at length good news to tell you. I am now good Protestant, 
and am extremely glad of it. I have in all my letters taken notice of 
the different movements of my mind, entirely Catholic when I came to 
Lausanne, wavering long time between the two systems, and at last 
fixed for the Protestant : — when that conflict was over, I had still 
another difficulty — brought up with all the ideas of the Church of 
England, I could scarce resolve to communion with Presbyterians, as 
all the people of this country are. I at last got over it, for considering 
that whatever difference there may be between their churches and ours, 
in the government and discipline, they still regard us as brethren and 
profess the same faith as us. Determined then in this design, I declared 
it to the ministers of the town, assembled at Mr. Pavilliard's, who, 
having examined me, approved of it, and permitted me to receive 
the communion with them, which I did Christmas day from the 
hands of Mr. Pavilliard, who appeared extremely glad of it. I 
am so extremely, myself — and do assure you feel a joy extremely 
pure, and the more so, as I know it to be not only innocent but 
laudable. 



From Mr. Pavilliard to Mrs. Porten. 

Madam, Lausanne, January 28, 1755. 

As I have a piece of news extremely interesting to acquaint you 
with, I cannot any longer defer answering to the letter you honoured 
me with. God has at length blessed my cares, and heard your prayers ; 
I have had the satisfaction of bringing back Mr. Gibbon to the bosom 
of our reformed Church ; he has communicated with us Christmas 
day last, with devotion : he appears satisfied with what he has done, 
and I am persuaded is at present as little inclined to the sentiments of 
the Church of Rome, as I am myself. I have made use with him, 
neither of rigour nor artifice. I have never hurried him in his de- 
cisions, but have always left him the time to reflect on every article ; 



1 This letter is curious : as it shows in how short a time (not more 
than a year and a half) he had adopted the idiom of the French lan- 
guage and lost that of his own. — M. 

i 4 



120 MEMOIRS 01' MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 

he has been persuaded of the integrity of my intentions, he has heard 
me as a friend, and I have Berved him as i:nitic to enter into the road 
of the truth. God Almightj be blessed for it; [pray that God to 
strengthen him mure and more in the right way, and to make him a 
faithful member of his Church. 1 ought to render him the justice to say, 
I never found him obstinate ; he has been fixed in his ideas, but when 
he has seen the light, he has rendered himself. His behaviour has been 
very regular and has made no slips, except that of gaming twice and 
losing much more than I desired. I hope, Madam, you will acquaint 
Mr. Gibbon with your satisfaction and restore him your affection, 
which, though his errors may have shaken, they have not, I am sure, 
destroyed. As his father has allowed him but the bare necessaries, but 
nothing more, I dare beg you to grant him some tokens of your satis- 
faction. I am convinced he will employ them well, and I ever flatter 
myself he will give me the direction of them, for he has promised me 
never to play any more games of chance. I wish you, Madam, all 
kinds of prosperity. 

No. 3. page 100. 
Extract of a Letter from Mr.Pavilliard to Edward Gibhon^Esq. 

Je n'ai point change de sentimens pour Monsieur votre fils. II 
vous rend compte de ses etudes, et je puis vous assurer qu'il ne vous 
dit rien qui ne soit tres vrai. II emploie tres bien son temps, ct il 
s'applique extremement, aussi a-t-il fait beaucoup deprogres. II entend 
tres bien le Latin, et il a lu les meilleurs auteurs que nous ayons, et 
cela plus d'une fois : il'alula Logique de Mr. de Crousaz et l'Essai sur 
l'Entendement humain de Mr. Locke, dont il a fait des extraits : il a 
commence le Grec, et il s'y attache : il va commencer l'algebre, comme 
vous le lui ordonnez. Vous jugerez par ses lettres s'il entend le 
Francois, car je vous assure que je n'y ai fait aucune correction. 

Par rapport a la religion, il n'a pas laissc echapper un seul mot, qui 
ait pu me fairc soupconner qu'il cut encore quelque attachement pour 
la religion Romaine, et quoiquc nous parlions souvent sur ces maticres, 
je le trouve toujours penser tres juste sur toutes les (jnestions qu'on 
traite. Le petit voyage que nous avons fait lui a beaucoup valu a cet 
egard : il a etc temoin des superstitions epouvantables, qui y regnent : 
il en a etc d'autant plus frappe qu'il ne le connoissoit pas, ct qu'il ne 
pouvoit s'imaginer qu'clles dissent aussi grandes. Quand il n'auroit 
pas deja rcnonce a cctte communion, il I'auroit fait indubitablement, 
taut elles lui out paru excessives et deraisonnables. Je suis persuade 
qu'il a embrasse le parti Protestant par raison, ct qu'il y a pen de pcr- 
Bonnes qui aient plus examine* et micux senti la force de nos preuves 
que lui. Je lui dois ce temoignage, et je le lui rends avec plaisir, de 
meme que sur sa bonne conduite. 



CHAP. IV. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 121 

P. S. La lettrc que vous avez ecrite a Monsieur votrc fils l'a ex- 
tremement touche, parce quelle lui a fait voir que vous etiez mecontent 
de lui. Rien ne peut le mortifier davantage que cette idee. Rendez 
lui, je vous supplie, votre affection, il la merite, par l'attachement qu'il 
a pour vous. 



From Mr. Pavilliard to Edicard Gibbon, Esq. 

Monsieur, Janvier 12, 1757. 

Vous avez souhaite que Monsieur votre fils s'appliquat a. l'algebre ; 
le goiit qu'il a pour les belles lettres luifaisoit apprehender que l'algebre 
ne nuisat a ses etudes favorites; je lui ai persuade qu'il ne se faisoit pas 
une juste idee de cette partie des mathematiques ; l'obeissance qu'il 
vous doit, jointe a mes raisons, l'ont determine a en faire un cours. Je 
ne croyois pas qu'avec cette repugnance il y fit de grands progres ; je 
me suis trompe : il fait bien tout ce qu'il fait ; il est exact a ses lecons ; 
il s'applique a lire avant sa lecon, et il repasse avec soin, de maniere 
qu'il avance beaucoup, et plus que je ne serois attendu : il est charme 
d'avoir commence, et je pense qu'il fera un petit cours de geometrie, ce 
qui en tout ne lui prendra que sept a, huit mois. Pendant qu'il fait ses 
lecons, il ne s'est point relache sur ses autres etudes; il avance 
beaucoup dans le Grec, et il a presque lu la moitie de l'lliade d'Homere; 
je lui fais regulierement des lecons sur cet auteur : il a aussi fini les 
historiens Latins ; il en est a present aux poetes ; et il a lu entitlement 
Plaute et Terence, et bientot il aura fini Lucrece. Au reste, il ne lit 
pas ces auteurs a la legere, il veut s'eclaireir sur tout ; de facon qu'avec 
le genie qu'il a, l'excellente memoire et 1' application, il ira loin dans les 
sciences. 

J'ai eu l'honneur de vous dire ci-devant, que malgre ses etudes il 
voyoit compagnie ; je puis vous le dire encore aujourdhui. 



From Mr. Pavilliard to Edward Gibbon, Esq. 

Monsieur, Jan. 14, 1758. 

J'ai eu l'honneur de vous ecrire le 27 Juillet et le 26 8 bre passes, et 
je vous ai rendu compte de la sante, des etudes, et de la conduite de 
Monsieur votre fils. Je n'ai rien a ajouter a tout ce que je vous en ai 
dit : il se porte parfaitement bien par la grace de Dieu : il continue a 
etudier avec application, et je puis vous assurer qu'il fait des progres 
considerables dans les etudes, et il se fait extremement estimer par tous 
ceux qui le connoissent, et j'espere que quand il vous montrera en 
detail ce qu'il sait, vous en serez tres content. Les Belles Lettres, qui 
sont son etude favorite, ne l'occupent pas entitlement ; il continue les 
mathematiques, et son professeur m'assure qu'il n'a jamais vu personne 



1^2 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 

avancer antant que lui, ni avoir phis d'ardeur ct d'application qu'il n'cn 
a. Son genie beureux et penetrant c.^t Beconde |>ur one memoire des 

plus heurcuscs, tellement (|u'il n'oublie prcsque ricn de ce qu'il apprencL 
Jc n'ai pas moins lieu d'etre content de sa eonduitc ; quoiqu'il etudic 
beaucoup, il voit ccpendant compagnie, mais il nc voit que des personnec 
dont le commerce pcut lui etre utile. 

No. 4. page 101. 

On this passage Dr. Whitaker observes that the reason for Gibbon's 
discontinuance of his mathematical studies was, perhaps without his 
knowledge, common to Warburton and himself, " That rigid demon- 
stration of which the object is mathematical certainty, incapacitates the 
mind from estimating the innumerable shades of probability, from moral 
certainty to the lowest conceivable possibility, is an opinion more 
specious than solid. The practice of mathematical investigation tends 
to strengthen the reasoning faculties in general ; and though the habit of 
requiring certainty may lead the reasoner to undervalue moral evidence, 
it can by no conceivable process incapacitate him from comprehending it. 
Almost all the best judges of moral evidence, and particularly the great 
modern advocates for the evidences of Christianity, have been mathe- 
maticians ; and happy would it have been for Mr. Gibbon and his ad- 
mirers, had his 'finer feeling,' of this species of induction led him to 
form an acquaintance with their writings." — Quarterly Review, xii. 
p. 3S0. 

This ancient question has recently been revived in the dispute 
between two of our most eminent men of science, Mr. Babbage and Mr. 
Whewell. If Mr. Whewell intended to disparage mathematical studies, 
as disqualifying the mind for the perception of moral evidence, (which 
maybe questioned,) he is himself, perhaps, one of the best confutations of 
his own theory. Is not, however, the truth with either or with both of 
these accomplished disputants ? The ordinary mind, to which the study 
of mathematics is an end, not a means, which aspires only to skill ami 
dexterity in managing the instrument, without applying it to any of its 
nobler purposes, astronomy or the higher branches of science, betrays 
and increases its incapacity for moral or historical reasoning. The mere 
mathematician is to the real philosopher, what the mere grammarian 
is to the real philologist ; the one dwells only with signs and numbers, the 
other with words and grammatical inflexions ; proving, not the in- 
evitable tendency of the study to disqualify for higher inquiries, but 
the narrowness and barrenness of the individual intellect. — M. 

No. 5. page 101. 

If Pope had ever looked into this treatise (Crousaz on Logic) 

he could not have committed so gross a mistake ;i> to introduce the 

author into the Dunciad among Locke's Aristotelian opponents, a 

distinction ti>r which Crousaz was probably indebted to his acute 



CHAP. IV. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 123 

strictures on those passages in the Essay on Man, which seem fa- 
vourable to fatalism. 

Prompt at the call, around the goddess roll 

Broad hats, and hoods, and caps, a sable shoal ; 

# # * # 

Each staunch Polemic, stubborn as a rock, 

Each fierce logician, still expelling Locke, 

Came whip and spur, and dash'd through thin and thick, 

On German Crousaz and Dutch Burgursdyk. 

Warburton, with his usual scurrility towards all Pope's adversaries, 
as well as his own, has called Crousaz a blundering Swiss ; but 
a very different estimate of his works has been formed by Gibbon, 
who seems to have studied his works much more carefully than the 
Right Reverend Commentator on the Dunciad. — Dugald Stewart, 
Preface to Encyclop., partii. p. 12. — M. 

No. 6. page 103. 
From Edward Gibbon to Mrs. Porten. 

Now for myself. As my father has given me leave to make a journey 
round Switzerland, we set out to-morrow. Buy a map of Switzerland, 
it will cost you but a shilling, and follow me. I go by Iverdun, 
Neufchatel, Bienne or Biel, Soleurre or Solothurn, Bale or Basil, Bade, 
Zurich, Lucerne, and Bern. The voyage will be of about four weeks ; 
so that I hope to find a letter from yon ivaiting for me. As my father 
had given me leave to learn what I had a mind, I have learned to ride, 
and learn actually to dance and draw. Besides that, I often give ten or 
twelve hours a day to my studies. I find a great many agreeable peo- 
ple here ; see them sometimes, and can say upon the whole, without 
vanity, that though I am the Englishman here who spends the least 
money, I am he who is the most generally liked. I told you that my 
father had promised to send me into France and Italy. I have thanked 
him for it ; but if he would follow my plan, he won't do it yet a while. 
I never liked young travellers ; they go too raw to make any great 
remarks, and they lose a time which is (in my opinion) the most 
precious part of a man's life. My scheme would be, to spend this 
winter at Lausanne : for though it is a very good place to acquire the 
air of good company and the French tongue, we have no good pro- 
fessors. To spend (I say) the winter at Lausanne ; go into England 
to see my friends for a couple of months, and after that, finish my 
studies, either at Cambridge (for after what has passed one cannot 
think of Oxford), or at an university in Holland. If you liked the 
scheme, could you not propose it to my father by Metcalf or somebody 
who has a certain credit over him ? I forgot to ask you whether, in case 
my father writes to tell me of his marriage, would you advise me to 
compliment my mother-in-law ? I think so. My health is so very 
regular, that I have nothing to say about it. 



Wl< MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 

I have been the whole daj writing you tins letter; the preparations 
for our voyage gave me a thousand interruptions. Besides that, I was 
obliged to write in English. This last reason will seem a paradox, but 
I assure you the French is much inure familiar to me. I am,&c 



Lausanne, Sept. 20, 1755. 



E. GIBBON. 



No. 7. page 110. 
Extracts from the Journal. 

March 1757. I wrote some critical observations upon Plautus. 

March 8th. I wrote a long dissertation on some lines of Virgil. 

June. I saw Mademoiselle Curchod — Omnia vincit amor, ct 

nos cedannis amori. 

August. I went to Crassy, and staid two days. 

Sept. 15th. I went to Geneva. 

Oct. 15th. I came back to Lausanne, having passed through 

Crassy. 

Nov. 1st. I went to visit M. de Watteville at Loin, and saw 

Mademoiselle Curchod in my way through Rolle. 

Nov. 17th. I went to Crassy, and staid there six days. 

Jan. 1758. In the three first months of this year I read Ovid's 

Metamorphoses, finished the conic sections with 
M. de Traytorrens, and went as far as the infinite 
series ; I likewise read Sir Isaac Newton's Chro- 
nology, and wrote my critical observations upon it. 

Jan 23d. I saw Alzire acted by the society at Monrepos. Vol- 

taire acted Alvarez ; D'Hermanehes, Zamore ; de 
St. Cierge, Gusman ; M. de Gentil, Monteze ; and 
Madame Denys, Alzire. 

No. 8. page 111. 

The letter in which Gibbon communicated to Mademoiselle Curchod 
the opposition of his father to their marriage, still exists in manuscript. 
The first pages are tender and melancholy, as might be expected from 
an unhappy lover ; the latter became by degrees calm and reasonable, 
and the letter concludes with these words, " Cest pourquoi, Mademoi- 
selle, 'fni Vhonneur d'etre voire /res humble et /res obeissant serviteur, 
Edouard Gibbon" He truly loved Mademoiselle Curchod ; but every 
one loves according to his character, and that of Gibbon was incapable 
of a despairing passion. — Al. Suard's AlemOir. 

No. 9. page 111. 

From a letter dated at Motiers, the 1th of June 1763, and addressed 
to M. M ca. — You have given me a commission for Aladeinoi- 



CHAP. IV. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 125 

selle Curchod, of which I shall acquit myself ill, precisely on account 
of my esteem for her. The coldness of Mr. Gibbon makes me think 
ill of him. I have again read his book. It is deformed by the per- 
petual affectation and pursuit of brilliancy. Mr. Gibbon is no man for 
me. I cannot think him well adapted to Mademoiselle Curchod. He 
that does not know her value is unworthy of her ; he that knows it, 
and can desert her, is a man to be despised. She does not know what 
she is about ; this man serves her more effectually than her own heart. 
I should a thousand times rather see him leave her free and poor 
among us, than bring her to be rich and miserable in England. In 
truth, I hope Mr. Gibbon may not come here. I should wish to dis- 
semble, but I could not ; I should wish to do well, and I feel that I 
should spoil all. 

No. 10. page 111. 

" The Curchod (Madame Necker) I saw at Paris. She was very 
fond of me, and the husband particularly civil. Could they insult me 
more cruelly ? Ask me every evening to supper ; go to bed, and leave 
me alone with his wife — what an impertinent security ! it is making 
an old lover of mighty little consequence. She is as handsome as 
ever, and much genteeler ; seems pleased with her fortune rather than 
proud of it. I was (perhaps indiscreetly enough) exalting Nanette 
d'lllens's good luck and the fortune. What fortune ? (said she, with 
an air of contempt) — not above twenty thousand livres a-year. I 
smiled, and she caught herself immediately. — ' What airs I give my- 
self in despising twenty thousand livres a-year, who a year ago looked 
upon eight hundred as the summit of my wishes.'" 

There is a very pleasing and friendly letter from Madame Necker to 
Gibbon, Misc. Works, vol. ii. p. 169. A second, chiefly on the first 
volume of his History, page 176. In a third, p. 193., occurs the follow- 
ing flattering description of Gibbon's powers of conversation : — " Votre 
entretien, Monsieur, a toujours ete un grand plaisir de ma vie, car 
vous reunissez l'interet pour les petites choses, l'enthousiasme pour les 
grandes, l'abondance des idees, a l'attention pour celles des autres, et 
une legere causticite, ame de la conversation, a, Pindulgence du moment, 
la surete du caractere, et le courage de l'amitie." 

See likewise, p. 245, and 440 to 469. Mme. Necker concludes one 
of her letters with the following significant quotation from Zaire : — 

" Genereux, bienfaisant, juste, plein de vertus, 

S'il etoit ne Chretien, que seroit il de plus." Page 454. 

It is curious to speculate on the effect which an union with a female 
of such pure dignity of character and calm religious principle, might 
have had on the character and opinions of Gibbon. 



126 memoirs or 



CHAP. V. 

Mr. Gibbon's manner of spending his Time. — He publishes 
his first Work, Essai sur l'E'tude de la Literature. — 
Some Observations on the Plan, and the Character of the 
Performance. — Character of Dr. Maty. — The Author?* 
manner of passing his Time in the Hampshire Militia, and 
Reflections upon it. — He resumes his Studies ; determines 
to write upon some Historical Subject ; considers various 
Subjects, and makes Remarks upon them for that purpose. 

In the prayers of the church our personal con- 
cerns are judiciously reduced to the threefold dis- 
tinction of mind, body, and estate. The sentiments 
of the mind excite and exercise our social sympathy. 
The review of my moral and literary character is 
the most interesting to myself and to the public ; 
and I may expatiate, without reproach, on my pri- 
vate studies ; since they have produced the public 
writings, which can alone entitle me to the esteem 
and friendship of my readers. The experience of 
the world inculcates a discreet reserve on the sub- 
ject of our person and estate, and we soon learn 
that a free disclosure of our riches or poverty would 
provoke the malice of envy, or encourage the in- 
solence of contempt. 

The only person in England whom I was impa- 
tient to see was my aunt Port on, the affectionate 
guardian of my tender years. I hastened to her 
house in College-street, Westminster ; and the 



CHAP. V. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 127 

evening was spent in the effusions of joy and con- 
fidence. It was not without some awe and appre- 
hension that I approached the presence of my 
father. My infancy, to speak the truth, had been 
neglected at home ; the severity of his look and 
language at our last parting still dwelt on my me- 
mory ; nor could I form any notion of his cha- 
racter, or my probable reception. They were 
both more agreeable than I could expect. The 
domestic discipline of our ancestors has been re- 
laxed by the philosophy and softness of the age ; 
and if my father remembered that he had trembled 
before a stern parent, it was only to adopt with his 
own son an opposite mode of behaviour. He re- 
ceived me as a man and a friend ; all constraint 
was banished at our first interview, and we ever 
afterwards continued on the same terms of easy 
and equal politeness. He applauded the success 
of my education ; every word and action was ex- 
pressive of the most cordial affection ; and our 
lives would have passed without a cloud, if his 
economy had been equal to his fortune, or if his 
fortune had been equal to his desires. During 
my absence he had married his second wife, Miss 
Dorothea Patton, who was introduced to me with 
the most unfavourable prejudice. I considered 
his second marriage as an act of displeasure, and 
I was disposed to hate the rival of my mother. 
But the injustice was in my own fancy, and the 
imaginary monster was an amiable and deserving 
woman. I could not be mistaken in the first view 
of her understanding, her knowledge, and the 
elegant spirit of her conversation : her polite wel- 



128 ME I10IRS OF (HAP. V. 

come, and her assiduous care to study and gratify 

my wishes, announced at least that the surface 
would be smooth ; and my suspicions of art and 
falsehood were gradually dispelled by the full dis- 
covery of her warm and exquisite sensibility. After 
some reserve on my side, our minds associated in 
confidence and friendship ; and as Mrs. Gibbon 
had neither children nor the hopes of children, we 
more easily adopted the tender names and genuine 
characters of mother and of son. By the indulgence 
of these parents, I was left at liberty to consult my 
taste or reason in the choice of place, of company, 
and of amusements ; and my excursions were 
bounded only by the limits of the island, and the 
measure of my income. Some faint efforts were 
made to procure me the employment of secretary 
to a foreign embassy ; and I listened to a scheme 
which would again have transported me to the 
continent. Mrsi Gibbon, with seeming wisdom, 
exhorted me to take chambers in the Temple, and 
devote my leisure to the study of the law. I cannot 
repent of having neglected her advice. Few men, 
without the spur of necessity, have resolution to 
force their way through the thorns and thickets 
of that gloomy labyrinth. Nature had not endowed 
me with the bold and ready eloquence which makes 
itself heard amidst the tumult of the bar ; and 1 
should probably have been diverted from the 
labours of literature, without acquiring the fame 
or fortune of a successful pleader. I had no need 
to call to my aid the regular duties of a profession ; 
every day, eyery hour, was agreeably filled ; nor 



CHAP. V. MY LIFE AXD WRITINGS. 129 

have I known, like so many of my countrymen, 
the tediousness of an idle life. 

Of the two years (May, 1758 — May, I76O) be- 
tween my return to England and the embodying of 
the Hampshire militia, I passed about nine months 
in London, and the remainder in the country. The 
metropolis affords many amusements, which are 
open to all. It is itself an astonishing and perpe- 
tual spectacle to the curious eye ; and each taste, 
each sense may be gratified by the variety of objects 
which will occur in the long circuit of a morning 
walk. I assiduously frequented the theatres, at a 
very propitious sera of the stage, when a constella- 
tion of excellent actors, both in tragedy and comedy, 
was eclipsed by the meridian brightness of Garrick 
in the maturity of his judgment, and vigour of his 
performance. The pleasures of a town-life are 
within the reach of every man who is regardless of 
his health, his money, and his company. By the 
contagion of example I was sometimes seduced ; 
but the better habits, which I had formed at Lau- 
sanne, induced me to seek a more elegant and ra- 
tional society ; and if my search, was less easy and 
successful than I might have hoped, I shall at pre- 
sent impute the failure to the disadvantages of my 
situation and character. Had the rank and fortune 
of my parents given them an annual establishment 
in London, their own house would have introduced 
me to a numerous and polite circle of acquaintance. 
But my father's taste had always preferred the 
highest and the lowest company, for which he was 
equally qualified ; and after a twelve years' retire- 
ment, he was no longer in the memory of the great 

K 



ISO MEMOIRS OF (HAT. V. 

with whom he had associated. I found myself a 
stranger in the midst of a vast and unknown city ; 
and at my entrance into life I was reduced to some 
dull family parties, and some scattered connections, 
which were not such as I should have chosen for 
myself. The most useful friends of my father were 
the Mallets : they received me with civility and 
kindness at first on his account, and afterwards on 
my own ; and (if I may use Lord Chesterfield's 
words) I was soon domesticated in their house. Mr. 
Mallet, a name among the English poets, is praised 
by an unforgiving enemy, for the ease and elegance 
of his conversation, and his wife was not destitute 
of w r it or learning. By his assistance I was intro- 
duced to lady Hervey, the mother of the present 
earl of Bristol. Her age and infirmities confined 
her at home; her dinners were select; in the 
evening her house was open to the best company 
of both sexes and all nations ; nor was I displeased 
at her preference and affectation of the manners, 
the language, and the literature of France. But 
my progress in the English world was in general 
left to my own efforts, and those efforts w 7 ere languid 
and slow. I had not been endowed by art or nature 
with those happy gifts of confidence and address, 
which unlock every door and every bosom ; nor 
would it be reasonable to complain of the just con- 
sequences of my sickly childhood, foreign education, 
and reserved temper. While coaches were rattling- 
through Bond-street, I have passed many a solitary 
evening in my lodging with my books. My studies 
were sometimes interrupted by a sigh, which I 
breathed towards Lausanne ; and on the approach 



CHAP. V. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 131 

of Spring, I withdrew without reluctance from the 
noisy and extensive scene of crowds without com- 
pany, and dissipation without pleasure. In each of 
the twenty-five years of my acquaintance with 
London (I758 — 1783) the prospect gradually 
brightened ; and this unfavourable picture most 
properly belongs to the first period after my return 
from Switzerland. 

My father's residence in Hampshire, where I have 
passed many light, and some heavy hours, was at 
Buriton, near Petersfield, one mile from the Ports- 
mouth road, and at the easy distance of fifty-eight 
miles from London. 1 An old mansion, in a state 
of decay, had been converted into the fashion and 
convenience of a modern house ; and if strangers 
had nothing to see, the inhabitants had little to 
desire. The spot was not happily chosen, at the 
end of the village and the bottom of the hill : but 
the aspect of the adjacent grounds was various and 
cheerful ; the downs commanded a noble prospect, 
and the long hanging woods in sight of the house 
could not perhaps have been improved by art or 
expense. My father kept in his own hands the 
whole of the estate, and even rented some addi- 
tional land ; and whatsoever might be the balance 
of profit and loss, the farm supplied him with 
amusement and plenty. The produce maintained 
a number of men and horses, which were multi- 
plied by the intermixture of domestic and rural ser- 
vants ; and in the intervals of labour the favourite 
team, a handsome set of bays or greys, was har- 

1 The estate and manor of Beriton, otherwise Buriton, were con- 
siderable, and were sold a few years ago to Lord Stawell. — S, 
K 2 



|.!J MEMOIRS OF CHAP. V. 

nessed to the coach. The economy of the house 
was regulated by the taste and prudence of Mrs. 
Gibbon. She prided herself in the elegance of her 
occasional dinners; and from the uncleanly avarice 
of Madame Pavilliard, I was suddenly transported 
to the daily neatness and luxury of an English 
table. Our immediate neighbourhood was rare and 
rustic ; but from the verge of our hills, as far as 
Chichester and Goodwood, the western district of 
Sussex was interspersed with noble seats and hos- 
pitable families, with whom we cultivated a friendly, 
and might have enjoyed a very frequent, inter- 
course. As my stay at Buriton was always volun- 
tary, I was received and dismissed with smiles; but 
the comforts of my retirement did not depend on 
the ordinary pleasures of the country. My father 
could never inspire me with his love and knowledge 
of farming. I never handled a gun, I seldom 
mounted a horse; and my philosophic walks were 
soon terminated by a shady bench, where I was 
long detained by the sedentary amusement of read- 
ing or meditation. At home I occupied a pleasant 
and spacious apartment ; the library on the same 
floor was soon considered as my peculiar domain ; 
and I might say with truth, that I was never less 
alone than when by myself. My sole complaint, 
which I piously suppressed, arose from the kind 
restraint imposed on the freedom of my time. By 
the habit of early rising I always secured a sacred 
portion of the day, and many scattered moments 
were stolen and employed by my studious industry. 
But the family hours of breakfast, of dinner, of tea, 
and of supper, were regular and long : after break- 



CHAP. V. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 133 

fast Mrs. Gibbon expected my company in her 
dressing-room ; after tea my father claimed my con- 
versation and the perusal of the newspapers ; and 
in the midst of an interesting work I was often 
called down to receive the visit of some idle neigh- 
bours. Their dinners and visits required, in due 
season, a similar return ; and I dreaded the period 
of the full moon, which was usually reserved for 
our more distant excursions. I could not refuse 
attending my father, in the summer of 1759, to the 
races at Stockbridge, Reading, and Odiham, where 
he had entered a horse for the hunters' plate ; and 
I was not displeased with the sight of our Olympic 
games, the beauty of the spot, the fleetness of the 
horses, and the gay tumult of the numerous spec- 
tators. As soon as the militia business was agita- 
ted, many days were tediously consumed in meet- 
ings of deputy-lieutenants at Petersfield, Alton, and 
Winchester. In the close of the same year, 17<59, 
Sir Simeon (then Mr.) Stewart attempted an unsuc- 
cessful contest for the county of Southampton, 
against Mr. Legge, Chancellor of the Exchequer : 
a well-known contest, in which Lord Bute's influ- 
ence was first exerted and censured. Our canvass 
at Portsmouth and Gosport lasted several days ; 
but the interruption of my studies was compen- 
sated in some degree by the spectacle of English 
manners, and the acquisition of some practical 
knowledge. 

If in a more domestic or more dissipated scene 
my application was somewhat relaxed, the love of 
knowledge was inflamed and gratified by the com- 
mand of books j and I compared the poverty of 
k 3 



1 J 1- MEMOIRS 01 CHAP. V. 

Lausanne with the plenty of London. My lather's 
study at Buriton was stuffed with much trash of 
the last age, with much high church divinity and 

politics, which have long since gone to their 
proper place : yet it contained some valuable edi- 
tions of the classics and the fathers, the choice, as 
it should seem, of Mr. Law ; and many English 
publications of the times had been occasionally 
added. From this slender beginning I have gra- 
dually formed a numerous and select library, the 
foundation of my works, and the best comfort of 
my life, both at home and abroad. On the receipt 
of the first quarter, a large share of my allowance 
was appropriated to my literary wants. I cannot 
forget the joy with which I exchanged a bank-note 
of twenty pounds for the twenty volumes of the 
Memoirs of the Academy of Inscriptions ; nor 
would it have been easy, by any other expendi- 
ture of the same sum, to have procured so large 
and lasting a fund of rational amusement. At a 
time when I most assiduously frequented this 
school of ancient literature, I thus expressed my 
opinion of a learned and various collection, which 
since the year 1759 has been doubled in magni- 
tude, though not in merit — " Une de ces socictcs, 
qui ont mieux immortalise Louis XIV. qu'une 
ambition souvent pernicieuse aux homines, com- 
mencoit deja ces recherches qui reunissent la 
justesse del'csprit, l'amenite et Ferudition: on Ton 
voit tant de decouvertes, et quelquefois, ce qui ne 
cede qu'a peine aux decouvertes, une ignorance 
modeste et savante" The review of my library 
must be reserved for the period of its maturity ; 



CHAP. V. MY LIFE AXD WRITINGS. 135 

but in this place I may allow myself to observe, 
that I am not conscious of having ever bought a 
book from a motive of ostentation, that every 
volume, before it was deposited on the shelf, was 
either read or sufficiently examined, and that I 
soon adopted the tolerating maxim of the elder 
Pliny, " nullum esse librum tarn malum ut non ex 
aliqua parte prodesset." I could not yet find 
leisure or courage to renew the pursuit of the 
Greek language, excepting by reading the lessons 
of the Old and New Testament every Sunday, 
when I attended the family to church. The series 
of my Latin authors was less strenuously com- 
pleted ; but the acquisition, by inheritance or 
purchase, of the best editions of Cicero, Quin- 
tilian, Livy, Tacitus, Ovid, &c. afforded a fair 
prospect, which I seldom neglected. I persevered 
in the useful method of abstracts and observations; 
and a single example may suffice, of a note which 
had almost swelled into a work. The solution of 
a passage of Livy (xxxviii. 38) involved me in the 
dry and dark treatises of Greaves, Arbuthnot, 
Hooper, Bernard, Eisenschmidt, Gronovius, La- 
Barre, Freret, &c; and in my French essay (chap. 
20.) I ridiculously send the reader to my own 
manuscript remarks on the weights, coins, and 
measures of the ancients, which were abruptly ter- 
minated by the militia drum. 

As I am now entering on a more ample field of 
society and study, I can only hope to avoid a vain 
and prolix garrulity, by overlooking the vulgar 
crowd of my acquaintance, and confining myself 
to such intimate friends among books and men, as 
k 4 



130 



MEMOIRS 01 



are best entitled to my notice by their own merit 
and reputation, or by the deep impression which 
they have left on my mind. Yet I will embrace 
this occasion of recommending to the young student 
a practice, which about this time I myself adopted* 
After glancing my eye over the design and order 
of a new book, I suspended the perusal till I had 
finished the task of self-examination, till I had re- 
volved, in a solitary walk, all that I knew or believed, 
or had thought on the subject of the whole work, 
or of some particular chapter : I was then qualified 
to discern how much the author added to my ori- 
ginal stock ; and if I was sometimes satisfied by 
the agreement, I was sometimes armed by the op- 
position, of our ideas. The favourite companions 
of my leisure were our English writers since the 
Revolution : they breathe the spirit of reason and 
liberty ; and they most seasonably contributed to 
restore the purity of my own language, which had 
been corrupted by the long use of a foreign idiom. 
By the judicious advice of Mr. Mallet, I was di- 
rected to the writings of Swift and Addison ; wit 
and simplicity are their common attributes ; but 
the style of Swift is supported by manly original 
vigour ; that of Addison is adorned by the female 
graces of elegance and mildness. * The old reproach, 
that no British altars had been raised to the Muse 
of History, was recently disproved by the first per- 
formances of Robertson and Hume, the histories of 
Scotland and of the Stuarts. I will assume the 
presumption of saying, that I was not unworthy to 



* This is remarkable : bul this Addison produced little effect on 
transient admiration of Swift and the style of Gibbon. — M. 



CHAP. V. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 137 

read them : nor will I disguise my different feelings 
in the repeated perusals. The perfect composition, 
the nervous language, the well-turned periods of 
Dr. Robertson, inflamed me to the ambitious hope 
that I might one day tread in his footsteps : the 
calm philosophy, the careless inimitable beauties of 
his friend and rival, often forced me to close the 
volume with a mixed sensation of delight and 
despair. 

The design of my first work, the Essay on the 
Study of Literature, was suggested by a refinement 
of vanity, the desire of justifying and praising the 
object of a favourite pursuit. In France, to which 
my ideas were confined, the learning and language 
of Greece and Rome were neglected by a phi- 
losophic age. The guardian of those studies, the 
Academy of Inscriptions, was degraded to the 
lowest rank among the three royal societies of Paris : 
the new appellation of Erudits was contemptuously 
applied to the successors of Lipsius and Casaubon ; 
and I was provoked to hear (see M. d'Alembert, 
Discours Preliminaire a l'Encyclopedie) that the 
exercise of the memory, their sole merit, had been 
superseded by the nobler faculties of the imagination 
and the judgment. I was ambitious of proving by 
my own example, as well as by my precepts, that 
all the faculties of the mind may be exercised and 
displayed by the study of ancient literature ; I 
began to select and adorn the various proofs and 
illustrations which had offered themselves in reading 
the classics \ and the first pages or chapters of my 
essay were composed before my departure from 
Lausanne. The hurry of the journey, and of the 



138 MEMOIRS OF CHAIW. 

first weeks ofmy English life, suspended all thoughts 
of serious application : but my object was eve* 
before my eyes ; and no more than ten days, from 
the first to the eleventh of July, were suffered to 
elapse after my summer establishment at Buriton. 
My essay was finished in about six weeks ; and as 
soon as a fair copy had been transcribed by one of 
the French prisoners at Petersfield, I looked round 
for a critic and judge of my first performance. A 
writer can seldom be content with the doubtful 
recompense of solitary approbation ; but a youth 
ignorant of the world, and of himself, must desire 
to weigh his talents in some scales less partial than 
his own : my conduct was natural, my motive 
laudable, my choice of Dr. Maty judicious and 
fortunate. By descent and education Dr. Maty, 
though born in Holland, might be considered as a 
Frenchman ; but he was fixed in London by the 
practice of physic, and an office in the British 
Museum. His reputation was justly founded on 
the eighteen volumes of the Journal Brittanniquet 
which he had supported, almost alone, with per- 
severance and success. This humble though useful 
labour, which had once been dignified by the 
genius of Bayle and the learning of Le Clerc, was 
not disgraced by the taste, the knowledge, and the 
judgment of Maty : he exhibits a candid and 
pleasing view of the state of literature in England 
during a period of six years (January, 1750 — De- 
cember, 1755) ; and, far different from his angry 
son, he handles the rod of criticism with the ten- 
derness and reluctance of a parent. The author 
of the Journal Brittannique sometimes aspires to 



CHAP. V. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 139 

the character of a poet and philosopher : his style 
is pure and elegant ; and in his virtues, or even in 
his defects, he may be ranked as one of the last 
disciples of the school of Fontenelle. His answer 
to my first letter was prompt and polite : after a 
careful examination he returned my manuscript, 
with some animadversion and much applause ; and 
when I visited London in the ensuing winter, we 
discussed the design and execution in several free 
and familiar conversations. In a short excursion 
to Buriton I reviewed my essay, according to his 
friendly advice ; and after suppressing a third, 
adding a third, and altering a third, I consummated 
my first labour by a short preface, which is dated 
February 3d, 1759- Yet I still shrunk from the 
press with the terrors of virgin modesty : the ma- 
nuscript was safely deposited in my desk ; and as my 
attention was engaged by new objects, the delay 
might have been prolonged till I had fulfilled the 
precept of Horace, "nonumqueprematurin annum." 
Father Sirmond, a learned Jesuit, was still more 
rigid, since he advised a young friend to expect the 
mature age of fifty, before he gave himself or his 
writings to the public (Olivet, Histoire de l'Aca- 
demie Francoise, torn, ii. p. 143.). The counsel 
was singular ; but it is still more singular that it 
should have been approved by the example of the 
author. Sirmond was himself fifty-five years of 
age when he published (in 1614) his first work, an 
edition of Sidonius Apollinaris, with many valuable 
annotations. (See his life, before the great edition 
of his works in five volumes folio, Paris, 1696, e 
Typographic Regia.) 



1 J<> MEMOIRS OF (IIAP.V. 

Two years elapsed in silence: but in the spring 
of 17(31 I yielded to the authority of a parent, 
and complied, like a pious son, with the wish of 
my own heart. (1) My private resolves were in- 
fluenced by the state of Europe. About this time 
the belligerent powers had made and accepted 
overtures of peace; our English plenipotentiaries 
were named to assist at the Congress of Augsburg, 
which never met : I wished to attend them as a 
gentleman or a secretary ; and my father fondly 
believed that the proof of some literary talents 
might introduce me to public notice, and second 
the recommendations of my friends. After a last 
revisal I consulted with Mr. Mallet and Dr. Maty, 
who approved the design and promoted the execu- 
tion. Mr. Mallet, after hearing me read my manu- 
script, received it from my hands, and delivered it 
into those of Becket, with whom he made an 
agreement in my name j an easy agreement : I re- 
quired only a certain number of copies ; and, 
without transferring my property, I devolved on 
the bookseller the charges and profits of the edi- 
tion. Dr. Maty undertook, in my absence, to 
correct the sheets : he inserted, without my know- 
ledge, an elegant and flattering epistle to the 
author ; which is composed, however, with so 
much art, that, in case of a defeat, his favourable 
report might have been ascribed to the indulgence 
of a friend for the rash attempt of a young English 
gentleman. The work was printed and published, 
under the title of Essai surl'E'tude de la Litera- 
ture, a Londres, chez T. Becket et P. A. de Hondt, 
176l| in a small volume in duodecimo : my dedica- 



CHAP. V. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 141 

tion to my father, a proper and pious address, was 
composed the twenty-eighth of May : Dr. Maty's 
letter is dated the 16th of June ; and I received 
the first copy (June 23d) at Alresford, two days 
before I marched with the Hampshire militia. 
Some weeks afterwards, on the same ground, I 
presented my book to the late Duke of York, who 
breakfasted in Colonel Pitt's tent. By my father's 
direction, and Mallet's advice, many literary gifts 
were distributed to several eminent characters in 
England and France ; two books were sent to the 
Count de Caylus, and the Duchesse d'Aiguillon, 
at Paris : I had reserved twenty copies for my 
friends at Lausanne, as the first fruits of my edu- 
cation, and a grateful token of my remembrance : 
and on all these persons I levied an unavoidable 
tax of civility and compliment. It is not surprising 
that a work, of which the style and sentiments 
were so totally foreign, should have been more 
successful abroad than at home. I was delighted by 
the copious extracts, the warm commendations, and 
the flattering predictions of the Journals of France 
and Holland : and the next year (1762) a new 
edition (I believe at Geneva) extended the fame, 
or at least the circulation, of the work. In England 
it was received with cold indifference, little read, 
and speedily forgotten : a small impression was 
slowly dispersed; the bookseller murmured, and 
the author (had his feelings been more exquisite) 
might have wept over the blunders and baldness 
of the English translation. The publication of my 
History fifteen years afterwards revived the me- 
mory of my first performance, and the Essay was 



142 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. V. 

eagerly sought in the shops. But I refused the 
permission which Becket solicited of reprinting 
it: the public curiosity was imperfectly satisfied 
by a pirated cop)' of the booksellers of Dublin ; 
and when a copy of the original edition has been 
discovered in a sale, the primitive value of half-a- 
crown has risen to the fanciful price of a guinea or 
thirty shillings. 

I have expatiated on the petty circumstances 
and period of my first publication, a memorable 
aera in the life of a student, when he ventures to 
reveal the measure of his mind : his hopes and 
fears are multiplied by the idea of self-importance, 
and he believes for a while that the eyes of man- 
kind are fixed on his person and performance. 
Whatever may be my present reputation, it no 
longer rests on the merit of this first essay ; and 
at the end of twenty-eight years I may appreciate 
my juvenile work with the impartiality, and almost 
with the indifference, of a stranger. In his an- 
swer to Lady Hervey, the Count de Caylus ad- 
mires, or affects to admire, " les livres sans nombre 
que Mr. Gibbon a lus et tres bien lus."'- But, 
alas ! my stock of erudition at that time was scanty 
and superficial ; and if I allow myself the liberty 
of naming the Greek masters, my genuine and 
personal acquaintance was confined to the Latin 
classics. The most serious defect of my Essay is 
a kind of obscurity and abruptness which always 
fatigues, and may often elude, the attention of the 



2 See Appendix, Letter, No. XIII.; and Count de Caylu 

vol. ii. p. 43. 



CHAP. V. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 143 

reader. Instead of a precise and proper definition 
of the title itself, the sense of the word Litterature 
is loosely and variously applied : a number of 
remarks and examples, historical, critical, philoso- 
phical, are heaped on each other without method 
or connection ; and if we except some introductory 
pages, all the remaining chapters might indifferently 
be reversed or transposed. The obscurity of many 
passages is often affected, brevis esse laboro, ob- 
scurus fio ; the desire of expressing perhaps a 
common idea with sententious and oracular brevity : 
alas ! how fatal has been the imitation of Mon- 
tesquieu ! But this obscurity sometimes proceeds 
from a mixture of light and darkness in the author's 
mind ; from a partial ray which strikes upon an 
angle, instead of spreading itself over the surface 
of an object. After this fair confession I shall 
presume to say, that the Essay does credit to a 
young writer of two and twenty years of age, who 
had read with taste, who thinks with freedom, and 
who writes in a foreign language with spirit and 
elegance. The defence of the early History of 
Rome and the new Chronology of Sir Isaac Newton 
form a specious argument. The patriotic and po- 
litical design of the Georgics is happily conceived ; 
and any probable conjecture, which tends to raise 
the dignity of the poet and the poem, deserves 
to be adopted, without a rigid scrutiny. Some 
dawnings of a philosophic spirit enlighten the 
general remarks on the study of history and of man. 
I am not displeased with the inquiry into the 
origin and nature of the gods of polytheism, which 
might deserve the illustration of a riper judgment. 



1 i I tfOIRS or CHAP. v. 

Upon the whole, I may apply to the first labour of 
my pen the speech of a far superior artist, when he 
surveyed the first productions of his pencil. After 
viewing some portraits which he had painted in his 

youth, my friend Sir Joshua Reynolds acknow- 
ledged to me, that he was rather humbled than 
flattered by the comparison with his present works ; 
and that after so much time and study, he had con- 
ceived his improvement to be much greater than 
he found it to have been. * 

At Lausanne I composed the first chapters of my 
Essay in French, the familiar language of my con- 
versation and studies, in which it was easier for 
me to write than in my mother-tongue. After 
my return to England I continued the same prac- 
tice, without any affectation, or design of re- 
pudiating (as Dr. Bentley would say) my verna- 
cular idiom. But I should have escaped some 
Anti-gallican clamour, had I been content with the 
more natural character of an English author. I 
should have been more consistent, had I rejected 
Mallet's advice, of prefixing an English dedication 



* The intelligent modem reader composed the military colonics, to 

will he inclined to adopt Gibhon's the pacific influence of Virgil's 

estimate of his early work. Its poetry. No subject has been pursued 

faults ;irc very clearly indicated ; it with greater erudition and variety 

is a collection of shrewd and of opinion by Continental scholars 

acute observations, without order than the origin of Polytheism. 

or connexion. The defence of the Gibbon's theor} was far advanced 

early History of Home and of beyond his age, and might suggest 

Newton's Chronology are not more something like an amicable com- 

than specious: there is ingenuity, promise between theSymbohsts and 

hut little more, in the theory about Anti-Symbolists o( Germany, the 

thcGcorgics; and Gibbon, in his ma- respective schools of Creuzer and 

turer judgement, might have smiled Voss. Theessayis to be found 

at his attributing the thirty years' in the fourth volume of the miscel- 

quiet of the turbulent veterans who laneous works. — M. 



CHAP. V. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 145 

to a French book ; a confusion of tongues that 
seemed to accuse the ignorance of my patron. 
The use of a foreign dialect might be excused by 
the hope of being employed as a negotiator, by 
the desire of being generally understood on the 
continent ; but my true motive was doubtless the 
ambition of new and singular fame, an English- 
man claiming a place among the writers of France. 
The Latin tongue had been consecrated by the 
service of the church, it was refined by the imi- 
tation of the ancients ; and in the fifteenth and 
sixteenth centuries the scholars of Europe enjoyed 
the advantage, which they have gradually resigned, 
of conversing and writing in a common and learned 
idiom. As that idiom was no longer in any 
country the vulgar speech, they all stood on a 
level with each other ; yet a citizen of old Rome 
might have smiled at the best Latinity of the 
Germans and Britons ; and we may learn from 
the Ciceronianus of Erasmus, how difficult it was 
found to steer a middle course between pedantry 
and barbarism. The Romans themselves had some- 
times attempted a more perilous task, of writing 
in a living language, and appealing to the taste and 
judgment of the natives. The vanity of Tully was 
doubly interested in the Greek memoirs of his own 
consulship ; and if he modestly supposes that some 
Latinisms might be detected in his style, he is 
confident of his own skill in the art of Isocrates 
and Aristotle ; and he requests his friend Atticus 
to disperse the copies of his work at Athens, and 
in the other cities of Greece {ad Atticum, i. 19. 
ii. 1.). But it must not be forgotten, that from in* 

L 



J II) MEMOIRS OF CHAP. V. 

Pane) to manhood Cicero and his contemporaries 

had read and declaimed, and composed with equal 
diligence in both languages ; and that he was not 
allowed to frequent a Latin school till he had im- 
bibed the lessons of the Greek grammarians and 
rhetoricians. In modern times, the language of 
France has been diffused by the merit of her writers, 
the social manners of the natives, the influence of 
the monarchy, and the exile of the protestants. 
Several foreigners have seized the opportunity of 
speaking to Europe in this common dialect, and 
Germany may plead the authority of Leibnitz and 
Frederic, of the first of her philosophers, and the 
greatest of her kings. The just pride and laudable 
prejudice of England has restrained this commu- 
nication of idioms ; and of all the nations on this 
side of the Alps, my countrymen are the least 
practised and least perfect in the exercise of the 
French tongue. By Sir William Temple and Lord 
Chesterfield it was only used on occasions of ci- 
vility and business, and their printed letters will 
not be quoted as models of composition. Lord 
Bolingbroke may have published in French a sketch 
of his Reflections on Exile : but his reputation 
now reposes on the address of Voltaire, " Docte 
sermones ntriusque linguae ; " and by his English 
dedication to Queen Caroline, and his Essay on 
Epic Poetry, it should seem that Voltaire himself 
wished to deserve a return of the same compliment. 
The exception of Count Hamilton cannot fairly 
be urged ; though an Irishman by birth, he was 
educated in France from his childhood. Yet I am 
surprised that a long residence in England, and 



CHAP. V. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 147 

the habits of domestic conversation, did not affect 
the ease and purity of his inimitable style ; and I 
regret the omission of his English verses, which 
might have afforded an amusing object of com- 
parison. I might therefore assume the primus ego 
in patriam, Sfc. ; but with what success I have ex- 
plored this untrodden path must be left to the 
decision of my French readers. Dr. Maty, who 
might himself be questioned as a foreigner, has 
secured his retreat at my expense. " Je ne crois 
pas que vous vous piquiez d'etre moins facile a re- 
connoitre pour un Anglois que Lucullus pour un 
Romain. " My friends at Paris have been more 
indulgent : they received me as a countryman, or 
at least as a provincial ; but they were friends and 
Parisians. 3 The defects which Maty insinuates, 
" Ces traits saillans, ces figures hardies, ce sacrifice 
de la regie au sentiment, et de la cadence a la 
force, " are the faults of the youth, rather than of 
the stranger : and after the long and laborious ex- 
ercise of my own language, I am conscious that 
my French style has been ripened and improved. * 
I have already hinted that the publication of my 
Essay was delayed till I had embraced the military 



3 The copious extracts which were given in the Journal Etranger 
by Mr. Suard, a judicious critic, must satisfy both the author and 
the public. I may here observe, that I have never seen in any 
literary review a tolerable account of my History. The manufacture 
of journals, at least on the continent, is miserably debased. 



* Two modern writers of imagi- traordinary effort of composition 
nation, Mr. Beckford and the late in a foreign language by an En- 
Mr. Hope, originally wrote, the one glishman is the translation of Hu- 
Vathek, the other Anastasius, in dibras by Mr. Townley. — M. 
French ; but perhaps the most ex- 

L 2 



148 MEMOIRS 01 CHAT. V. 

profession. I shall now amuse myself with the 
recollection of an active scene, which bears no 
affinity to any other period of my studious and so- 
cial life. 

In the outset of a glorious war, the English 
people had been defended by the aid of German 
mercenaries. A national militia has been the cry 
of every patriot since the Revolution ; and this 
measure, both in Parliament and in the field, was 
supported by the country gentlemen or Tories, who 
insensibly transferred their loyalty to the house of 
Hanover: in the language of Mr. Burke, they .have 
changed the idol, but they have preserved the 
idolatry. In the act of offering our names and re- 
ceiving our commissions, as major and captain in 
the Hampshire regiment (June l c 2th, 17^9), we 
had not supposed that we should be dragged away, 
my father from his farm, myself from my books, and 
condemned, during two years and a half (May 10, 
I76O — December 23, 1~G C 2), to a wandering life of 
military servitude. But a weekly or monthly ex- 
ercise of thirty thousand provincials would have 
left them useless and ridiculous ; and after the pre- 
tence of an invasion had vanished, the popularity 
of Mr. Pitt gave a sanction to the illegal step of 
keeping them till the end of the war under arms, in 
constant pay and duty, and at a distance from their 
respective homes. When the King's order for our 
embodying came down, it was too late to retreat, 
and too soon to repent. The South battalion of 
the Hampshire militia was a small independent 
corps of four hundred and seventy-six, officers and 
men, commandedbyLieutenant-Colonel Sir Thomas 



CHAP. V. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 149 

Worsley, who, after a prolix and passionate con- 
test, delivered us from the tyranny of the Lord 
Lieutenant, the Duke of Bolton. My proper sta- 
tion, as first captain, was at the head of my own, 
and afterwards of the grenadier company ; but in 
the absence, or even in the presence, of the two 
field officers, I was entrusted by my friend and my 
father with the effective labour of dictating the or- 
ders, and exercising the battalion. With the help 
of an original journal, I could write the history of 
my bloodless and inglorious campaigns ; but as these 
events have lost much of their importance in my 
own eyes, they shall be despatched in a few words. 
From Winchester, the first place of assembly (June 
4, 1760), we were removed, at our own request, for 
the benefit of a foreign education. By the arbi- 
trary, and often capricious, orders of the War Office, 
the battalion successively marched to the pleasant 
and hospitable Blandford (June 17); to Hilsea bar- 
racks, a seat of disease and discord (September 1); 
to Cranbrook in the Weald of Kent (December 1 l)j 
to the sea-coast of Dover (December 27) ; to Win- 
chester camp (June 25, 1761); to the populous and 
disorderly town of Devizes (October 23); to Salis- 
bury (February 28, 1762) ; to our beloved Bland- 
ford a second time (March 9); and finally, to the 
fashionable resort of Southampton (June 2); where 
the colours were fixed till our final dissolution 
(December 23). On the beach at Dover we had 
exercised in sight of the Gallic shores. But the 
most splendid and useful scene of our life was a 
four months encampment on Winchester Down, 
under the command of the Earl of Effingham. 
l 3 



150 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. V. 

Our army consisted of the thirty-fourth regiment 

of foot and six militia corps. The consciousness of 
defects was stimulated by friendly emulation. We 
improved our time and opportunities in morning 
and evening field-days ; and in the general reviews 
the South Hampshire were rather a credit than a 
disgrace to the line. In our subsequent quarters 
of the Devizes and Blandford, we advanced with a 
quick step in our military studies ; the ballot of the 
ensuing summer renewed our vigour and youth ; 
and had the militia subsisted another year, we 
might have contested the prize with the most 
perfect of our brethren. 

The loss of so many busy and idle hours was 
not compensated by any elegant pleasure ; and my 
temper was insensibly soured by the society of our 
rustic officers. In every state there exists, how- 
ever, a balance of good and evil. The habits of a 
sedentary life were usefully broken by the duties 
of an active profession: in the healthful exercise of 
the field I hunted with a battalion, instead of a 
pack ; and at that time I was ready, at any hour of 
the day or night, to fly from quarters to London, 
from London to quarters, on the slightest call of 
private or regimental business. But my principal 
obligation to the militia, was the making me an 
Englishman and a soldier. After my foreign edu- 
cation, with my reserved temper, I should long 
have continued a stranger to my native country, 
had I not been shaken in this various scene of new 
faces and new friends ; had not experience forced 
me to feel the characters of our leading men, the 
state of parties, the forms of office, and the ope- 



CHAP. V. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 151 

ration of our civil and military system. In this 
peaceful service, I imbibed the rudiments of the 
language and science of tactics, which opened a 
new field of study and observation. I diligently 
read, and meditated, the Memoires Militaires of 
Quintus Icilius (Mr. Guichardt), the only writer 
who has united the merits of a professor and a 
veteran. (2) The discipline and evolutions of a 
modern battalion gave me a clearer notion of the 
phalanx and the legion ; and the captain of the 
Hampshire grenadiers (the reader may smile) has 
not been useless to the historian of the Roman 
empire. 

A youth of any spirit is fired even by the play of 
arms, and in the first sallies of my enthusiasm I had 
seriously attempted to embrace the regular profes- 
sion of a soldier. But this military fever was cooled 
by the enjoyment of our mimic Bellona, who soon 
unveiled to my eyes her naked deformity. How 
often did I sigh for my proper station in society 
and letters ! How often (a proud comparison) did 
I repeat the complaint of Cicero in the command 
of a provincial army! " Clitellse bovi sunt impo- 
sitas. Est incredibile quam me negotii tasdeat. Non 
habet satis magnum campum ille tibi non ignotus 
cursus animi ; et industrial meaa praeclara opera 
cessat. Lucem, libros, urbem, domum, vos desi- 
dero. Sed feram, ut potero ; sit modo annuum. Si 
prorogatum actum est." 4 From a service without 
danger I might indeed have retired without dis- 
grace; but as often as I hinted a wish of resigning, 
my fetters were rivetted by the friendly entreaties 

■* Epist. ad Atticum, lib. v. 15. 
L 4 



l.VJ MEMOIRS OF ( HAP. V. 

of the colonel, the parental authority of the major, 
and my own regard for the honour and welfare of 
the battalion. When I felt that my personal escape 
was impracticable, I bowed my neck to the yoke : 
my servitude was protracted far beyond the annual 
patience of Cicero ; and it was not till after the 
preliminaries of peace that I received my discharge, 
from the act of government which disembodied the 
militia. (3) 

When I complain of the loss of time, justice to 
myself and to the militia must throw the greatest 
part of that reproach on the first seven or eight 
months, while I was obliged to learn as well as to 
teach. The dissipation of Blandford, and the dis- 
putes of Portsmouth, consumed the hours which 
were not employed in the field ; and amid the per- 
petual hurry of an inn, a barrack, or a guard-room, 
all literary ideas were banished from my mind. 
After this long fast, the longest which I have ever 
known, I once more tasted at Dover the pleasures 
of reading and thinking ; and the hungry appetite 
with which I opened a volume of Tully's philoso- 
phical works is still present to my memory. The 
last review of my Essay before its publication, had 
prompted me to investigate the nature of the gods ; 
my inquiries led me to the Histoire Critique du 
Manicheisme of Beausobre, who discusses many 
deep questions of Pagan and Christian theology : 
and from this rich treasury of facts and opinions, I 
deduced my own consequences, beyond the holy 
circle of the author. After this recovery I never 
relapsed into indolence ; and my example might 
prove, that in the life most averse to study, some 



CHAP. V. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 153 

hours may be stolen, some minutes maybe snatched. 
Amidst the tumult of Winchester camp I some- 
times thought and read in my tent ; in the more 
settled quarters of the Devizes, Blandford, and 
Southampton, I always secured a separate lodging, 
and the necessary books ; and in the summer of 
1762, while the new militia was raising, I enjoyed at 
Beriton two or three months of literary repose. (4) 
In forming a new plan of study, I hesitated between 
the mathematics and the Greek language ; both of 
which 1 had neglected since my return from Lau- 
sanne. I consulted a learned and friendly mathe- 
matician, Mr. George Scott, a pupil of de Moivre ; 
and his map of a country which I have never ex- 
plored, may perhaps be more serviceable to others. 5 
As soon as I had given the preference to Greek, 
the example of Scaliger and my own reason deter- 
mined me on the choice of Homer, the father of 
poetry, and the Bible of the ancients : but Scaliger 
ran through the Iliad in one and twenty days ; and 
I was not dissatisfied with my own diligence for 
performing the same labour in an equal number of 
weeks. After the first difficulties were surmounted, 
the language of nature and harmony soon became 
easy and familiar, and each day I sailed upon the 
ocean with a brisker gale and a more steady course. 

'Ej/ S' dve/xog Trpijfftv [isaov iiriov, ajMpi Sk Kv/xa 
2r£i'j0y iroptyvpEov /jieyuX' ('axe, vrjog lovurjQ' 
'H 5' iQttv Kara avfjia diairpiicaovaa KeXivOa.S 

Mas, A. 481. 



s See Appendix, Letter, No. XIV. from Mr. Scott to Mr. 
Gibbon. 

6 Fair wind, and blowing fresh, 

Apollo sent them ; quick they rear'd the mast, 



151' MEMOIRS OF CIIAT. V. 

In the study of a poet who lias since become the 
most intimate of my friends, I successively applied 
many passages and fragments of Greek writers ; 
and among these I shall notice a life of Homer, in 
the Opuscula Mythologica of Gale, several books 
of the geography of Strabo, and the entire treatise 
of Longinus, which, from the title and the style, is 
equally worthy of the epithet of sublime. My 
grammatical skill was improved, my vocabulary 
was enlarged ; and in the militia I acquired a just 
and indelible knowledge of the first of languages. 
On every march, in every journey, Horace was 
always in my pocket, and often in my hand ; but 
I should not mention his two critical epistles, the 
amusement of a morning, had they not been ac- 
companied by the elaborate commentary of Dr. 
Hurd, now Bishop of Worcester. On the inter- 
esting subjects of composition and imitation of epic 
and dramatic poetry, I presumed to think for my- 
self; and thirty close- written pages in folio could 
scarcely comprise my full and free discussion of 
the sense of the master and the pedantry of the 
servant. 7 

After his oracle Dr. Johnson, my friend Sir 
Joshua Reynolds denies all original genius, any 
natural propensity of the mind to one art or science 
rather than another. Without engaging in a me- 
taphysical or rather verbal dispute, 1 knoic, by ex- 



Then Bpreadth' unsullied canvass to the gale, 
And the wind fill'd it. Roar'd the sable flood 

Around the hark, that ever as she went 
Dash'd wide the brine and scudded swift awa\. 

Cowper's Homer, 
7 See Vol. II. Miscellaneous Works. 



CHAP. V. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 155 

perience, that from my early youth I aspired to the 
character of an historian. While I served in the 
militia, before and after the publication of my Essay, 
this idea ripened in my mind ; nor can I paint in 
more lively colours the feelings of the moment, 
than by transcribing some passages, under their 
respective dates, from a journal which I kept at 
that time. 

Beriton, April 14. I76I. 

(In a short excursion from Dover.) 

" Having thought of several subjects for an his- 
torical composition, I chose the expedition of 
Charles VIII. of France into Italy. I read two 
memoirs of Mr. de Forcemagne in the Academy of 
Inscriptions (torn. xvii. p. 539 — 607.), and ab- 
stracted them. I likewise finished this day a dis- 
sertation, in which I examine the right of Charles 
VIII. to the crown of Naples, and the rival claims 
of the House of Anjou and Arragon : it consists of 
ten folio pages, besides large notes." 8 

Beriton, August 4. I76I. 

(In a lueek's excursion from Winchester camp.) 

"After having long revolved subjects for my in- 
tended historical essay, I renounced my first thought 
of the expedition of Charles VIII. as too remote 
from us, and rather an introduction to great events, 
than great and important in itself. I successively 
chose and rejected the crusade of Richard I., 
the barons' wars against John and Henry III., 
the history of Edward the Black Prince, the lives 

s See Vol. II. p. 6. 



156 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. V. 

and comparisons of Henry V. and the Emperor 
Titus, the life of Sir Philip Sidney, and that of the 
Marquis of Montrose. At length I have fixed on 
Sir Walter Raleigh for my hero. His eventful 
story is varied by the characters of the soldier and 
sailor, the courtier and historian ; and it may afford 
such a fund of materials as I desire, which have not 
yet been properly manufactured. At present I 
cannot attempt the execution of this work. Free 
leisure, and the opportunity of consulting many 
books, both printed and manuscript, are as necessary 
as they are impossible to be attained in my present 
way of life. However, to acquire a general insight 
into my subject and resources, I read the life of 
Sir Walter Raleigh by Dr. Birch, his copious article 
in the General Dictionary by the same hand, and 
the reigns of Queen Elizabeth and James I., in 
Hume's History of England." 

Beriton, January, I762. 

(In a month's absence from the Devizes.) 

" During this interval of repose, I again turned 
my thoughts to Sir Walter Raleigh, and looked more 
closely into my materials. I read the two volumes 
in quarto of the Bacon Papers, published by Dr. 
Birch ; the Fragmenta Regalia of Sir Robert 
Naunton, Mallet's Life of Lord Bacon, and the po- 
litical treatises of that great man in the first volume 
of his works, with many of his letters in the second j 
Sir William Monson's Naval Tracts, and the ela- 
borate Life of Sir Walter Raleigh, which Mr. Oldys 
has prefixed to the best edition of his History of 



HAP. V. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 157 

the World. My subject opens upon me, and in 
general improves upon a nearer prospect." 

Beriton, July 26. 1762. 

(During my summer residence.') 

" I am afraid of being reduced to drop my hero ; 
but my time has not, however, been lost in the 
research of his story, and of a memorable era of 
our English annals. The Life of Sir Walter Raleigh, 
by Oldys, is a very poor performance ; a servile 
panegyric, or flat apology, tediously minute, and 
composed in a dull and affected style. Yet the 
author was a man of diligence and learning, who 
had read every thing relative to his subject, and 
whose ample collections are arranged with perspi- 
cuity and method. Excepting some anecdotes 
lately revealed in the Sidney and Bacon Papers, I 
know not what I should be able to add. My am- 
bition (exclusive of the uncertain merit of style and 
sentiment) must be confined to the hope of giving 
a good abridgment of Oldys. I have even the dis- 
appointment of finding some parts of this copious 
work very dry and barren ; and these parts are un- 
luckily some of the most characteristic ; Raleigh's 
colony of Virginia, his quarrels with Essex, the true 
secret of his conspiracy, and, above all, the detail 
of his private life, the most essential and important 
to a biographer. My best resource would be in 
the circumjacent history of the times, and perhaps 
in some digressions artfully introduced, like the 
fortunes of the Peripatetic philosophy in the por- 
trait of Lord Bacon. But the reigns of Elizabeth 
and James I. are the periods of English history, 



158 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. V. 

which have been the most variously illustrated ; and 
what new lights could I reflect on a subject, which 
has exercised the accurate industry of Birch, the 
lively and curious acuteness of Walpole, the critical 
spirit of Hard, the vigorous sense of Mallet and 
Robertson, and the impartial philosophy of Hame ? 
Coidd I even surmount these obstacles, I should 
shrink with terror from the modern history of 
England, where every character is a problem, and 
every reader a friend or an enemy ; where a writer 
is supposed to hoist a flag of party, and is devoted 
to damnation by the adverse faction. Such would 
be my reception at home : and abroad, the historian 
of Raleigh must encounter an indifference far more 
bitter than censure or reproach. The events of his 
life are interesting ; but his character is ambiguous, 
his actions are obscure, his writings are English, and 
his fame is confined to the narrow limits of our 
language and our island. I must embrace a safer 
and more extensive theme. 

" There is one which I should prefer to all 
others, The History of the Liberty of the Siviss*, 
of that independence which a brave people res- 
cued from the House of Austria, defended against 
a Dauphin of France, and finally sealed with the 
blood of Charles of Burgundy. From such a 
theme, so full of public spirit, of military glory, of 
examples of virtue, of lessons of government, the 
dullest stranger would catch fire : what might not 



* This historical ground is now chiefly drawn from Muller; but for 

occupied by the great work of a popular history I should prefer 

Muller. The late Mr. Planta's that of Zschokke, Schweizerlands 

History of the Helvetic Confede- Gcschichte fur das Sehweizervolk. 
racy is a very pleasing narrative, 



CHAP. V. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 159 

/ hope, whose talents, whatsoever they may be, 
would be inflamed with the zeal of patriotism. 
But the materials of this history are inaccessible to 
me, fast locked in the obscurity of an old barbarous 
German dialect, of which I am totally ignorant, 
and which I cannot resolve to learn for this sole and 
peculiar purpose. 

" I have another subject in view, which is the 
contrast of the former history : the one a poor, 
warlike, virtuous republic, which emerges into 
glory and freedom ; the other a commonwealth, 
soft, opulent, and corrupt ; which, by just degrees, 
is precipitated from the abuse to the loss of her 
liberty: both lessons are, perhaps, equally in- 
structive. This second subject is, The History of 
the Republic of Florence, under the House of 
Medicis* : a period of one hundred and fifty years, 
which rises or descends from the dregs of the 
Florentine democracy, to the title and dominion of 
Cosmo de Medicis in the Grand Duchy of Tuscany. 
I might deduce a chain of revolutions not unworthy 
of the pen of Vertot ; singular men, and singular 
events; the Medicis four times expelled, and as 
often recalled ; and the Genius of Freedom re- 
luctantly yielding to the arms of Charles V. and 
the policy of Cosmo. The character and fate of 
Savanarola, and the revival of arts and letters in 
Italy, will be essentially connected with the ele- 
vation of the family and the fall of the republic. 



* The works of the late Mr. is executed with much elegance. 

Roscoe, the Lives of Lorenzo and The great political picture would 

of Leo X. have but partially require a firmer and more vi- 

fulfilled this great design. The gorous hand, 
literary part of these histories 



160 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 

The Medicis, stirps quasi Pataliter nata ad instau- 
randa w\ fovenda studia (Lipsius ad Germanos et 
Gallos, Epist. viii.), were illustrated by the patronage 
of learning ; and enthusiasm was the most for- 
midable weapon of their adversaries. On this 
splendid subject I shall most probably fix ; but 
when, or where, or how will it be executed? I 
behold in a dark and doubtful perspective ; " 

Res alta terra, et caligine mersas.( :i ) 



NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 

No. 1. page 140. 

Journal, March 8th, 1758. — I began my Essai sur l'Etude de la 
Litterature, and wrote the 23 first chapters (excepting the following 
ones, 11, 12, 13. 18, 19, 20, 21, 22.) before I left Switzerland. 

July 1 1th. I again took in hand my Essay ; and in about six. weeks 
finished it, from C. 23—55. (excepting 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33. and 
note to C. 38.) besides a number of chapters from C. 55. to the end, 
which are now struck out. 

Feb. 11th, 1759. I wrote the chapters of my Essay, 27, 28, 29, 30, 
31, the note to C. 38. and the first part of the preface. 

April 23d, 17G1. Being at length, by my father's advice, determined 
to publish my Essay, I revised it with great care, made many alterations, 
struck out a considerable part, and wrote the chapters from 57 — 78., 
which I was obliged myself to copy out fair. 

June 10th, 1761. Finding the printing of my book proceeded but 
slowly, I went up to town, where I found the whole was finished. I 
gave Bccket orders for the presents : 20 for Lausanne ; copies for the 
Duke of Richmond, Marquis of Carnarvon, Lords Waldegrave, Litch- 
field, Bath, Granville, Bute, Shclbourn, Chesterfield, Hardwicke, Lady 
Hervey, Sir Joseph Yorke, Sir Matthew Featherstone, MM. Mallet, 
Maty, Scott, Wray, Lord Egrcmont, M. de Bussy, Mademoiselle la 
Duchcsse d'Aiguillon, and M. lc Comte de Caylus : — great part of these 
were only my father's or Mallet's acquaintance. 



CHAP. V. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. lGl 

No 2. page 151. 

Gibbon's Journal (Misc. Works, vol. v. 219 — 223.) contains a more 
detailed criticism on these Memoires of M. Guichardt. 

May 21st. — I read in the Memoires the translation of the military 
institutions of Onozander, full of that common-place sense which 
every one can write, and no one can deny. 

22d. — I read the Tactics of Arrian, translated in the Memoires. 
They are very curious and exact, and give a very clear notion of the 
nature, arms, and discipline of the phalanx; but it is very odd Arrian 
should rather compile these Tactics from Greek writers, than write 
from his own knowledge an account of the Roman legions, which he 
had himself seen and commanded. 

23d. — I read the Analysis of Caesar's Campaign in Africa. Every 
motion of that great general is laid open with a critical sagacity. A 
complete military history of his campaigns would do almost as much 
honour to M. Guichardt as to CaBsar. This finished the Memoires, 
which gave me a much clearer notion of ancient tactics than I ever had 
before. Indeed, my own military knowledge was of some service to 
me, as I am well acquainted with the modern discipline and exercise of 
a battalion. So that, though much inferior to M. Folard and M. Gui- 
chardt, who had seen service, I am a much better judge than Salmasius, 
Casaubon, or Lipsius ; mere scholars, who perhaps had never seen a 
battalion under arms. 

No. 3. page 152. 

Journal, January 11th, 1761. — In these seven or eight months 
of a most disagreeably active life, I have had no studies to set down ; 
indeed, I hardly took a book in my hand the whole time. The first 
two months at Blandford, I might have done something ; but the no- 
velty of the thing, of which for some time I was so fond as to think of 
going into the army, our field-days, our dinners abroad, and the drinking 
and late hours we got into, prevented any serious reflections. From 
the day we marched from Blandford I had hardly a moment I could 
call my own, almost continually in motion ; if I was fixed for a day, it 
was in the guard-room, a barrack, or an inn. Our disputes consumed 
the little time I had left. Every letter, every memorial relative to 
them fell to my share ; and our evening conferences were used to hear 
all the morning hours strike. At last I got to Dover, and Sir Thomas 
left us for two months. The charm was over ; I was sick of so hateful 
a service ; I was settled in a comparatively quiet situation. Once more 
I began to taste the pleasure of thinking. 

Recollecting some thoughts I had formerly had in relation to the 
System of Paganism, which I intended to make use of in my Essay, I 
resolved to read Tully, de Natura Deorum, and finished it in about a 
month". I lost some time before I could recover my habit of application. 

M 



L62 MEMOIRS OF MY LITE AND WRITINGS. 

Oct. 2.3d. — Our first design was to march through Marlborough; 
but finding on inquiry that it was a bad road, and a yreat way about, 
we resolved to push for the Devizes in one day, though nearly thirty 
miles. We accordingly arrived there about three o'clock in the after- 
noon. 

N . 2d. — I have very little to say for this and the following month. 
Nothing could be more uniform than the life I led there. The little 
civility of the neighbouring gentlemen gave us no opportunity of dining 
out ; the time of year did not tempt us to any excursions round the 
country; and at first my indolence, and afterwards a violent cold, pre- 
vented my going over to Bath. I believe in the two months I never 
dined or lay from quarters. I can therefore only set down what I did 
in the literary way. Designing to recover my Greek, which I had 
somewhat neglected, I set myself to read Homer, and finished the four 
first books of the Iliad, with Pope's translation and notes ; at the same 
time, to understand the geography of the Iliad, and particularly the 
catalogue, I read the 8th, 9th, 10th, 12th, 13th, and 14th books of 
Strabo, in Casaubon's Latin translation; I likewise read Hume's His- 
tory of England to the Reign of Henry the Seventh, just published, 
ingenious but superficial ; and the Journals des Sea vans for August, Sep- 
tember, and October 1761, with the Bibliotheque des Sciences, &c, from 
July to October : both these Journals speak very handsomely of my 
book. 

December 25th, 1761. — When, upon finishing the year, I take a 
review of what I have done, I am not dissatisfied with what I did in 
it, upon making proper allowances. On the one hand, I could begin 
nothing before the middle of January. The Deal duty lost me part of 
February; although I was at home part of March, and all April, yet 
electioneering is no friend to the Muses. May, indeed, though dissi- 
pated by our sea parties, was pretty quiet ; but June was absolutely 
lost, upon the march, at Alton, and settling ourselves in camp. The 
four succeeding months in camp allowed me little leisure, and less quiet. 
November and December were indeed as much my own as any time 
can be whilst I remain in the militia ; but still it is, at best, not a life 
for a man of letters. However, in this tumultuous year (besides smaller 
things which I have set down) I read four books of Homer in Greek, 
six of Strabo in Latin, Cicero de Natura Deorum, and the great philo- 
sophical and theological work of M. de Beausobre : 1 w rote in the same 
time a long dissertation on the succession of Naples ; reviewed, fitted 
for the press, and augmented above a fourth, my Essai sur 1'E'tmle de 
la Litterature. 

In the six weeks I passed at Bcriton, as I never stirred from it, every 
day was like the former. 1 had neither visits, hunting, nor walking. 
My only resources were myself, mj books, and family conversations. — 
But to me these were great resources. 

April 24th, 1 762. — I waited upon Colonel Harvey in the morning 



CHAP. V. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 163 

to get him to apply for me to be brigade-major to Lord Effingham, as a 
post I should be very fond of, and for which I am not unfit. Harvey 
received me with great good-nature and candour, told me he was both 
willing and able to serve me ; that indeed he had already applied to Lord 
Effingham for Leake, one of his own officers, and though there would 
be more than one brigade-major, he did not think he could properly 
recommend two ; but that if I could get some other person to break 
the ice, he would second it, and believed he should succeed : should 
that fail, as Leake was in bad circumstances, he believed he could make 
a compromise with him (this was my desire) to let me do the duty 
without pay. I went from him to the Mallets, who promised to get 
Sir Charles Howard to speak to Lord Effingham. 

August 22d. — I went with Ballard to the French church, where I 
heard a most indifferent sermon preached by M. *####*. A very bad 
style, a worse pronunciation and action, and a very great vacuity of 
ideas, composed this excellent performance. Upon the whole, which is 
preferable, the philosophic method of the English, or the rhetoric of the 
French preachers ? The first (though less glorious) is certainly safer 
for the preacher. It is difficult for a man to make himself ridiculous, 
who proposes only to deliver plain sense on a subject he has thoroughly 
studied. But the instant he discovers the least pretensions towards 
the sublime or the pathetic, there is no medium ; we must either admire 
or laugh ; and there are so many various talents requisite to form the 
character of an orator, that it is more than probable we shall laugh. 
As to the advantage of the hearer, which ought to be the great consi- 
deration, the dilemma is much greater. Excepting in some particular 
cases, where we are blinded by popular prejudices, we are in general 
so well acquainted with our duty, that it is almost superfluous to con- 
vince us of it. It is the heart, and not the head, that holds out ; and 
it is certainly possible, by a moving eloquence, to rouse the sleeping 
sentiments of that heart, and incite it to acts of virtue. Unluckily it 
is not so much acts, as habits of virtue, we should have in view ; and 
the preacher who is inculcating, with the eloquence of a Bourdaloue, 
the necessity of a virtuous life, will dismiss his assembly full of emotions, 
which a variety of other objects, the coldness of our northern constitu- 
tions, and no immediate opportunity of exerting their good resolutions, 
will dissipate in a few moments. 

24th. — The same reason that carried so many people to the assembly 
to-night, was what kept me away ; I mean the dancing. 

28th. — To-day Sir Thomas came to us to dinner. The Spa has 
done him a great deal of good, for he looks another man. Pleased 
to see him, we kept bumperizing till after roll-calling ; Sir Thomas 
assuring us, every fresh bottle, how infinitely soberer he was grown. 

29th. — I felt the usual consequences of Sir Thomas's company, 
and lost a morning, because I had lost the day before. However, 
having finished Voltaire, I returned to Le Clerc (I mean for the amuse- 

M 2 



164 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 

ment of my leisure hours) ; and laid aside for some time his BibSothigve 
UnwerseUe, to look into the BibHotheque Choisie, which is by far the 
better work. 

September 23d.— Colonel Wilkes, of the Buckinghamshire mi- 
litia, dined with us, and renewed the acquaintance Sir Thomas and 
myself had begun with him at Heading. I scarcely ever met with a 
better companion ; he lias inexhaustible spirits, infinite wit and humour* 
and a great deal of knowledge ; but a thorough profligate in principle 
as in practice, his life stained with every vice, and his conversation full 
of blasphemy and indecency. These morals he glories in — for shame 
is a weakness he has long since surmounted. He told us himself, that 
in this time of public dissension he was resolved to make his fortune. 
Upon this noble principle he has connected himself closely with Lord 
Temple and Mr. Pitt, commenced a public adversary to Lord Bute, 
whom he abuses weekly in the North Briton, and other political papers 
in which he is concerned. This proved a very debauched day ; we 
drank a good deal both after dinner and supper ; and when at last 
Wilkes had retired, Sir Thomas and some others (of whom I was not 
one) broke into his room, and made him drink a bottle of claret in 
bed. 

October 5th. — The review, which lasted about three hours, con- 
cluded as usual, with marching by Lord Effingham, by grand divisions. 
Upon the whole, considering the camp had done both the Winchester 
and the Gosport duties all the summer, they behaved very well, and 
made a fine appearance. As they marched by, I had my usual curiosity 
to count their files. The following is my field return : I think it a 
curiosity ; I am sure it is more exact than is commonly made to a re- 
viewing general. 

No. of Files. No. of Men. Establishment. 

„ , ,. f Grenadiers, 191 ^, ^~« 

Berks/arc, { Battalioil) ' ?2 j 91 - 273 - 560 

TT7- 77- f Grenadiers, 15 1 ^„„ ,,, 

W.Essex, | Battalion / so j 9o - 285 - 480 

c rv i f Grenadiers, 20 1 , A , .,._ .._ 

S. Ghster, | Battaliorij 84 J- 104 - 312 600 



A'. Gloster, 
Lancashire, 

Wiltshire, 



f Grenadiers, 
\ Battalion, 



2} 

/Grenadiers, 201 

\ Battalion, 88 J 

{Grenadiers, 241 

Battalion, 120 J 



N. B. The Gosport detachment from the Lancashire consisted of 
two hundred ami fifty men. The Buckinghamshire took the Win- 
chester duty that day. 



CHAP. V. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 165 

So that this camp, in England, supposed complete, with only one de- 
tachment, had under arms, on the day of the grand review, little more 
than half their establishment. This amazing deficiency (though exem- 
plified in every regiment I have seen) is an extraordinary military 
phenomenon ; what must it be upon foreign service ? I doubt whether 
a nominal army of an hundred thousand men often brings fifty into the 
field. 

Upon our return to Southampton in the evening, we found Sir 
Thomas Worsley. 

October 21st. — One of those impulses, which it is neither very easy 
nor very necessary to withstand, drew me from Longinus to a very 
different subject, the Greek Calendar. Last night, when in bed, I was 
thinking of a dissertation of M. de la Nauze upon the Roman Calendar, 
which I read last year. This led me to consider what was the Greek, 
and finding myself very ignorant of it, I determined to read a short, but 
very excellent abstract of Mr. DodwelPs book de Cyclis, by the famous 
Dr. Halley. It is only twenty-five pages ; but as I meditated it 
thoroughly, and verified all the calculations, it was a very good morning's 
work. 

28th. — I looked over a new Greek Lexicon which I had 
just received from London. It is that of Robert Constantine, Lugdun. 
1637.* It is a very large volume in folio, in two parts, comprising in 
the whole 1785 pages. After the great Thesaurus, this is esteemed 
the best Greek Lexicon. It seems to be so. Of a variety of words 
for which I looked, I always found an exact definition ; the various 
senses well distinguished, and properly supported, by the best author- 
ities. However, I still prefer the radical method of Scapula to this 
alphabetical one. 

December 1 1th. — I have already given an idea of the Gosport duty. 
I shall only add a trait which characterises admirably our unthinking 
sailors. At a time when they knew that they should infallibly be dis- 
charged in a few weeks, numbers, who had considerable wages due to 
them, were continually jumping over the walls, and risking the losing 
of it for a few hours' amusement at Portsmouth. 

17th. — We found old Captain Meard at Alresford, with the 
second division of the fourteenth. He and all his officers supped with 
us, and made the evening rather a drunken one. 

18th. — About the same hour our two corps paraded to march off. 
They, an old corps of regulars, who had been two years. quiet in Dover 
castle. "We, part of a young body of militia, two thirds of our men 
recruits, of four months' standing, two of which they had passed upon 
very disagreeable duty. Every advantage was on their side, and yet 

* The reputation of Constantine's Lexicon has considerably declined 
since the days of Gibbon. — M. 

M 3 



1 66 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 

our superiority, both as to appearance and discipline, was so striking, 
that the most prejudiced regular could not have hesitated a moment. 
At the end of the town our two companies separated : my father struck 
off for Petersfield, whilst I continued my route to Alton ; into which 
place I marched my company about noon ; two years six months and 
fifteen days after my first leaving it. I gave the men some beer at roll- 
calling, which they received with great cheerfulness and decency. I 
dined and lay at Harrison's, where I was received with that old-fashioned 
breeding, which is at once so honourable and so troublesome. 

23d. — Our two companies were disembodied ; mine at Alton, and 
my father's at Beriton. Smith marched them over from Petersfield : 
they fired three volleys, lodged the major's colours, delivered up their 
arms, received their money, partook of a dinner at the major's expense, 
and then separated with great cheerfulness and regularity. Thus ended 
the militia ; I may say ended, since our annual assemblies in May are 
so very precarious, and can be of so little use. However, our Serjeants 
and drums are still kept up, and quartered at the rendezvous of the 
company, and the adjutant remains at Southampton in full pay. 

As this was an extraordinary scene of life, in which I was engaged 
above three years and a half from the date of my commission, and above 
two years and a half from the time of our embodying, I cannot take 
my leave of it without some few reflections. When I engaged in it, I 
was totally ignorant of its nature and consequences. I offered, because 
my father did, without ever imagining that we should be called out, till 
it was too late to retreat with honour. Indeed, I believe it happens 
throughout, that our most important actions have been often determined 
by chance, caprice, or some very inadequate motive. After our em- 
bodying, many things contributed to make me support it with great 
impatience:— our continual disputes with the Dukeof Bolton ; our un- 
settled way of life, which hardly allowed me books or leisure for study; 
and, more than all, the disagreeable society in which I was forced to 
live. 

After mentioning my sufferings, I must say something of what I 
found agreeable. Now it is over, I can make the separation much 
better than I could at the time. 1. The unsettled way of life itself had 
its advantages. The exercise and change of air and of objects amused 
me, at the same time that it fortified my health. 2. A new field of 
knowledge and amusement opened itself tome ; that of military affairs, 
■which, both in my studies and travels, will give me eyes for a new world 
of things, which before would have passed unheeded. Indeed, in that 
respect, I can hardly help wishing our battalion had continued another 
year. We had got a fine set ol* new men; all our difficulties were over; 
we were perfectly well clothed and appointed ; and, from the progress 
our recruits had already made, we could promise ourselves that we 
should be one of the best militia corps by next summer : a circum- 



CHAP. V. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 167 

stance that would have been the more agreeable to me, as I am now- 
established the real acting major of the battalion. But what I value 
most is the knowledge it has given me of mankind in general, and of 
my own country in particular. The general system of our government, 
the methods of our several offices, the departments and powers of their 
respective officers, our provincial and municipal administration, the 
views of our several parties, the characters, connections, and influence 
of our principal people, have been impressed on my mind, not by vain 
theory, but by the indelible lessons of action and experience. I have 
made a number of valuable acquaintance, and am myself much better 
known than (with my reserved character) I should have been in ten 
years, passing regularly my summers at Beriton, and my winters in 
London. So that the sum of all is, that I am glad the militia has been, 
and glad that it is no more. 

No i. page 153. 

Journal, May Sth, 1762. — This was my birthday, on which 
I entered into the twenty-sixth year of my age. This gave me occa- 
sion to look a little into myself, and consider impartially my good and 
bad qualities. It appeared to me, upon this inquiry, that my character 
was virtuous, incapable of a base action, and formed for generous ones ; 
but that it was proud, violent, and disagreeable in society. These 
qualities I must endeavour to cultivate, extirpate, or restrain, according 
to their different tendency. Wit I have none. My imagination is 
rather strong than pleasing. My memory both capacious and retentive. 
The shining qualities of my understanding are extensiveness and pene- 
tration ; but I want both quickness and exactness. As to my situation 
in life, though I may sometimes repine at it, it perhaps is the best 
adapted to my character. I can command all the conveniences of life, 
and I can command too that independence (that first earthly bless- 
ing) which is hardly to be met with in a higher or lower fortune. 
When I talk of my situation, I must exclude that temporary one, of 
being in the militia. Though I go through it with spirit and applica- 
tion, it is both unfit for, and unworthy of me. 

No. 5. page 160. 

r Journal, July 27th, 1762. — 'The reflections which I was making 
yesterday I continued and digested to-day. I don't absolutely look on 
that time as lost, but that it might have been better employed than in 
revolving schemes, the execution of which is so far distant. I must 
learn to check these wanderings of my imagination. 

Nov. 24. — I dined at the Cocoa Tree with Holt ; who, under a great 
appearance of oddity, conceals more real honour, good sense, and even 

M 4 



168 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AM) wuitim 5. 

knowledge, than half those who laugh at him. "We went thence to the 
play (the Spanish Friar); and when it was over, returned to the Cocoa 
Tree. That respectable body, of which I have the honour of being a 
member, affords every evening a .sight truly English. Twenty or 
thirty, perhaps, of the first men in the kingdom, in point of fashion and 
fortune, supping at little tables covered with a napkin, in the middle of 
a coffee-room, upon a bit of cold meat, or a sandwich, and drinking a 
glass of punch. At present, we are full of king's counsellors and lords 
of the bed-chamber; who, having jumped into the ministry, make a 
very singular medley of their old principles and language, with their 
modern ones. 

Nov. 26. — I went with Mallet to breakfast with Garrick ; and 
thence to Drury-lane house, where I assisted at a very private rehearsal, 
in the Green-room, of a new tragedy of Mallet's, called Elvira. As I 
have since seen it acted, I shall defer my opinion of it till then ; but I 
cannot help mentioning here the surprising versatility of Mrs. Pritchard's 
talents, who rehearsed almost at the same time the part of a furious 
queen in the Green-room, and that of a coquette on the stage ; and 
passed several times from one to the other with the utmost ease and 
happiness. 

Dec. 30. — Before I close the year I must balance my accounts — not 
of money but of time. I may divide my studies into four branches : 
1. Books that I have read for themselves, classic writers, or capital 
treatises upon any science ; such books as ought to be perused with 
attention, and meditated with care. Of these I read the twenty last books 
of the Iliad twice, the three first boohs of the Odyssey, the Life of Homer, 
and Longinus -rrepi Yxpovc. 2. Books which I have read, or consulted, 
to illustrate the former. Such as this year, BlackweWs Inquiry into the 
Life and Writings of Homer, Burke's Sublime and Beautiful, Hurd's 
Horace, Guichardt's Memoircs JMUitaircs, a great variety of passages of 
the ancients occasionally useful ; large extracts from Mczcriac, Bayle, 
and Potter ; and many memoirs and abstracts from the Academy of 
Belles Lcttres : among these I shall only mention here two long and 
curious suites of dissertations — the one upon the Temple of Delphi, the 
Amphictyonic Council, and the Holy Wars, by MM. Hardion and de 
Valois ; the other upon the Games of the Grecians, by MM. Burette 
Gcdoync, and de la Barrc. 3. Books of amusement and instruction, 
perused at my leisure hours, without any reference to a regular plan of 
study. Of these, perhaps, I read too many, since I went through the 
Life of Erasmus, by le Clerc and Burigny, many extracts from Le 
Clerc's Bibliotheques, The Ciceroniamts, and Colloquies of Erasmus, 
Barclay's Argcnis, Terasson's Sethos, Voltaire's Steele de Louis XIV., 
Madame de Mottevtlle's Memoires, and FonteneUe's Works, i. Com- 
positions of my own. I find hardly any, except this Journal and 
the Extract of Hurd's Horace, which (like a chapter of Montaigne) 
contains many things very dirlerent from its title. To these four heads 



CHAP. V. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 169 

I must this year add a fifth. 5. Those treatises of English history 
which I read in January, with a view to my now abortive scheme of the 
Life of Sir Walter Raleigh. I ought indeed to have known my own 
mind better before I undertook them. Upon the whole, after making 
proper allowances, I am not dissatisfied with the year. 

The three weeks which I passed at Beriton, at the end of this and 
the beginning of the ensuing year, are almost a blank. I seldom went 
out ; and as the scheme of my travelling was at last entirely settled, 
the hurry of impatience, the cares of preparations, and the tenderness 
of friends I was going to quit, allowed me hardly any moments for 
study. 



170 MEMOIRS OF 



CHAP. VI. 

Mr. Gibbon sees Mallet's Elvira performed. — Character of 
that Play. — Passes s me time at Paris, gives an Account 
of the Persons with whom he chiefly associated ; proceeds, 
through Dijon and Besancon, to Lausanne. — Charac- 
terises a Society there, called La Societe du Printems.^ 
Becomes acquainted with Mr. Holroyd, now Lord Sheffield. 
— Remarks on their Meeting. — Some Account of Mr. 
Gibbons Studies at Lausanne, prepai'atory to his Italian 
Journey. — He travels into Italy; his Peelings and Ob- 
servations upon his Arrival at Borne. — He returns to 
England. 

The youthful habits of the language and manners 
of France had left in my mind an ardent desire of 
revisiting the continent on a larger and more liberal 
plan. According to the law of custom, and perhaps 
of reason, foreign travel completes the education of 
an English gentleman: my father had consented to 
my wish, but I was detained above four years by 
my rash engagement in the militia. I eagerly 
grasped the first moments of freedom : three or 
four weeks in Hampshire and London were em- 
ployed in the preparations of my journey, and the 
farewell visits of friendship and civility : my last 
act in town was to applaud Mallet's new tragedy 
of Elvira(l); a post-chaise conveyed me to Dover, 
the packet to Boulogne, and such was my diligence, 
that I reached Paris on the <28th of January 1763, 



CHAP. VI. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 171 

only thirty-six days after the disbanding of the mi- 
litia. Two or three years were loosely defined for 
the term of my absence ; and I was left at liberty 
to spend that time in such places and in such a 
manner as was most agreeable to my taste and 
judgment. 

In this first visit I passed three months and a 
half (January 28th — May 9th), and a much longer 
space might have been agreeably filled, without any 
intercourse with the natives. At home we are 
content to move in the daily round of pleasure and 
business ; and a scene which is always present is 
supposed to be within our knowledge, or at least 
within our power. But in a foreign country, cu- 
riosity is our business and our pleasure ; and the 
traveller, conscious of his ignorance, and covetous 
of his time, is diligent in the search and the view 
of every object that can deserve his attention. I 
devoted many hours of the morning to the circuit 
of Paris and the neighbourhood, to the visit of 
churches and palaces conspicuous by their archi- 
tecture, to the royal manufactures, collections of 
books and pictures, and all the various treasures of 
art, of learning, and of luxury. An Englishman 
may hear without reluctance, that in these curious 
and costly articles Paris is superior to London ; 
since the opulence of the French capital arises 
from the defects of its government and religion. 
In the absence of Louis XIV. and his successors, 
the Louvre has been left unfinished : but the 
millions which have been lavished on the sands of 
Versailles, and the morass of Marli, could not be 
supplied by the legal allowance of a British king. 



17- MEMOIRS OF CHAP. Vli 

The splendour of the French nobles is confined to 
their town residence; that of the English is more 
usefully distributed in their country seats ; and we 
should be astonished at our own riches, if the 
labours of architecture, the spoils of Italy and 
Greece, which are now scattered from Inverarv to 
Wilton, were accumulated in a few streets between 
Marylebone and Westminster. All superfluous 
ornament is rejected by the cold frugality of the 
protestants ; but the catholic superstition, which is 
always the enemy of reason, is often the parent of 
the arts. The wealthy communities of priests and 
monks expend their revenues in stately edifices ; 
and the parish church of St. Sulpice, one of the 
noblest structures in Paris, was built and adorned 
by the private industry of a late cure. In this 
outset, and still more in the sequel of my tour, my 
eye was amused ; but the pleasing vision cannot 
be fixed by the pen ; the particular images are 
darkly seen through the medium of five-and-twentv 
years, and the narrative of my life must not 
degenerate into a book of travels. (2) 

But the principal end of my journey was to enjoy 
the society of a polished and amiable people, in 
whose favour I was strongly prejudiced, and to 
converse with some authors, whose conversation, 
as I fondly imagined, must be far more pleasing 
and instructive than their writings. The moment 
was happily chosen. At the close of a successful 
war the British name was respected on the con- 
tinent : 

Clarum et venerabile aomen 

Gentibus. 



CHAP. VI. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 173 

Our opinions, our fashions, even our games, were 
adopted in France ; a ray of national glory illumi- 
nated each individual, and every Englishman was 
supposed to be born a patriot and a philosopher. 
For myself, I carried a personal recommendation ; 
my name and my Essay were already known ; the 
compliment of having written in the French lan- 
guage entitled me to some returns of civility and 
gratitude. I was considered as a man of letters, 
who wrote for amusement. Before my departure 
I had obtained from the Duke de Nivernois, Lady 
Hervey, the Mallets, Mr. Walpole, &c. many 
letters of recommendation to their private or lite- 
rary friends. Of these epistles the reception and 
success were determined by the character and situ- 
ation of the persons by whom and to whom they 
were addressed : the seed was sometimes cast on a 
barren rock, and it sometimes multiplied an hun- 
dred fold in the production of new shoots, spreading 
branches, and exquisite fruit. But upon the whole, 
I had reason to praise the national urbanity, which 
from the court has diffused its gentle influence to 
the shop, the cottage, and the schools. Of the 
men of genius of the age, Montesquieu and Fon- 
tenelle were no more ; Voltaire resided on his 
own estate near Geneva; Rousseau in the prece- 
ding year had been driven from his hermitage of 
Montmorency ; and I blush at my having ne- 
glected to seek, in this journey, the acquaintance 
of Buffon. Among the men of letters whom I 
saw, d'Alembert and Diderot held the foremost 
rank in merit, or at least in fame. I shall con- 
tent myself with enumerating the well-known 



174 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. VI. 

names of the Count de Caylus, of the Abbe de la 
Bleterie,Barthelemy, Reynal, Arnaud, of Messieurs 
de la Condamine, du Clos, de S" Palaye, de Bou- 
gainville, Caperonnier, de Guignes, Suard (3), Sec, 
without attempting to discriminate the shades of 
their characters, or the degrees of our connection. 
Alone, in a morning visit, I commonly found the 
artists and authors of Paris less vain, and more 
reasonable, than in the circles of their equals, with 
whom they mingle in the houses of the rich. Four 
days in a week I had a place, without invitation, at 
the hospitable tables of Mesdames GeofTrin and du 
Bocage, of the celebrated Helvetius (4), and of the 
Baron d'Olbach. In these symposia the pleasures 
of the table were improved by lively and liberal 
conversation ; the company was select, though va- 
rious and voluntary.(5) 

The society of Madame du Bocage * was more 
soft and moderate than that of her rivals, and the 
evening conversations of M. de Foncemagne were 
supported by the good sense and learning of the 
principal members of the Academy of Inscriptions. 
The opera and the Italians I occasionally visited ; 
but the French theatre, both in tragedy and comedy, 
was my daily and favourite amusement. Two 
famous actresses then divided the public applause. 
For my own part, I preferred the consummate art 
of the Clairon to the intemperate sallies of the 
Dumesnil, which were extolled by her admirers, 
as the genuine voice of nature and passion. Four* 



* Madame du Bocage was the Colombiade," not without some 
authoress of a poem called " La pretty and fanciful verses. — M. 



CHAP. VI. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 175 

teen weeks insensibly stole away ; but had I been 
rich and independent, I should have prolonged, 
and perhaps have fixed, my residence at Paris, 

Between the expensive style of Paris and of 
Italy it was prudent to interpose some months of 
tranquil simplicity, and at ';he thoughts of Lau- 
sanne I again lived in the pleasures and studies of 
my early youth. Shaping my course through 
Dijon and Besancon, in the last of which places I 
was kindly entertained by my cousin Acton, I 
arrived in the month of May, 1763, on the banks of 
the Leman Lake. It had been my intention to pass 
the Alps in the autumn; but such are the simple 
attractions of the place, that the year had almost 
expired before my departure from Lausanne in the 
ensuing spring. An absence of five years had not 
made much alteration in manners, or even in per- 
sons. My old friends, of both sexes, hailed my 
voluntary return; the most genuine proof of my at- 
tachment. They had been flattered by the present 
of my book, the produce of their soil ; and the good 
Pavilliard shed tears of joy as he embraced a pupil, 
whose literary merit he might fairly impute to his 
own labours. (6) To my old list I added some new 
acquaintance, and among the strangers I shall dis- 
tinguish Prince Lewis of Wirtemberg, the brother 
of the reigning duke, at whose country-house, 
near Lausanne, I frequently dined : a wandering 
meteor, and at length a falling star, his light and 
ambitious spirit had successively dropped from the 
firmament of Prussia, of France, and of Austria ; 
and his faults, which he styled his misfortunes, had 
driven him into philosophic exile in the Pays de 



176 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. VI. 

Valid. He could now moralise on the vanity of 
the world, the equality of mankind, and the hap- 
piness of a private station. His address was affable 
and polite, and as he had shone in courts and armies, 
his memory could supply, and his eloquence could 
adorn, a copious fund of interesting anecdotes. IIi> 
first enthusiasm was that of charity and agriculture; 
but the sage gradually lapsed in the saint, and 
Prince Lewis of Wirtemberg is now buried in a her- 
mitage near Mayence, in the last stage of mystic de- 
votion. (7) By some ecclesiastical quarrel, Voltaire 
had been provoked to withdraw himself from Lau- 
sanne, and retire to his castle at Ferney, where I 
again visited the poet and the actor, without seek- 
ing his more intimate acquaintance, to which I 
might now have pleaded a better title. But the 
theatre which he had founded, the actors whom he 
had formed, survived the loss of their master ; and 
recent from Paris, I attended with pleasure at the 
representation of several tragedies and comedies. 
I shall not descend to specify particular names and 
characters ; but I cannot forget a private institu- 
tion, which will display the innocent freedom of 
Swiss manners. My favourite society had assumed, 
from the age of its members, the proud denomina- 
tion of the spring (la societe du printems). It con- 
sisted of fifteen or twenty young unmarried ladies, 
of genteel though not of the very first families ; the 
eldest perhaps about twenty ; all agreeable, several 
handsome, and two or three of exquisite beauty. 
At each other's houses they assembled almost every 
day, without the control, or even the presence, of 
a mother or an aunt ; they were trusted to their own 
prudence, among a crowd of young men of every 



CHAP. VI. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 177 

nation in Europe. They laughed, they sung, they 
danced, they played at cards, they acted comedies ; 
but in the midst of this careless gaiety, they re- 
spected themselves, and were respected by the men; 
the invisible line between liberty and licentiousness 
was never transgressed by a gesture, a word, or a 
look, and their virgin chastity was never sullied by 
the breath of scandal or suspicion : a singular in- 
stitution, expressive of the innocent simplicity of 
Swiss manners. After having tasted the luxury of 
England and Paris, I could not have returned with 
satisfaction to the coarse and homely table of Ma- 
dame Pavilliard ; nor was her husband offended 
that I now entered myself as a pe?tsionnaire, or 
boarder, in the elegant house of Mr. de Mesery, 
which may be entitled to a short remembrance, as 
it has stood above twenty years, perhaps, without 
a parallel in Europe. The house in which we 
lodged was spacious and convenient, in the best 
street, and commanding from behind, a noble pro- 
spect over the country and the Lake. Our table 
was served with neatness and plenty ; the boarders 
were select ; we had the liberty of inviting any 
guests at a stated price ; and in the summer the 
scene was occasionally transferred to a pleasant villa, 
about a league from Lausanne. The characters of 
master and mistress were happily suited to each 
other, and to their situation. At the age of seventy- 
five, Madame de Mesery, who has survived her 
husband, is still a graceful, I had almost said a 
handsome woman. She was alike qualified to pre- 
side in her kitchen and her drawing-room ; and such 
was the equal propriety of her conduct, that of two 

N 



178 M i:\IOJlts OF CHAP. VI. 

or three hundred foreigners, none ever failed in 
respect, none could complain of her neglect, and 
none could ever boast of her favour. Mesery him- 
self, of the noble family of De Crousaz, was a man 
of the world, a jovial companion, whose easy man- 
ners and natural sallies maintained the cheerfulness 
of his house. His wit could laugh at his own 
ignorance : he disguised, by an air of profusion, a 
strict attention to his interest; and in this situ- 
ation, he appeared like a nobleman who spent his 
fortune and entertained his friends. In this agree- 
able society I resided nearly eleven months (May 
1760 — April, I7CI); and in this second visit toLau- 
sanne, among a crowd of my English companions, 
I knew and esteemed Mr. Holroyd (now Lord Shef- 
field); and our mutual attachment was renewed and 
fortified in the subsequent stages of our Italian 
journey. Our lives are in the power of chance, and 
a slight variation on either side, in time or place, 
might have deprived me of a friend, whose activity 
in the ardour of youth was always prompted by a 
benevolent heart, and directed by a strong under- 
standing. (8) 

If my studies at Paris had been confined to the 
study of the world, three or four months would 
not have been unprofitably spent. My visits, how- 
ever superficial, to the Academy of Medals and the 
public libraries, opened a new field of enquiry; 
and the view of so many manuscripts of different 
ages and characters induced me to cousult the two 
great Benedictine works, the Dvplomatica of Ma- 
billon, and the Pakeographia of Montfaucon. I 
studied the theory without attaining the practice of 



CHAP. VI. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 179 

the art : nor should I complain of the intricacy of 
Greek abbreviations and Gothic alphabets, since 
every day, in a familiar language, I am at a loss 
to decypher the hieroglyphics of a female note. 
In a tranquil scene, which revived the memory of 
my first studies, idleness would have been less par- 
donable : the public libraries of Lausanne and Ge- 
neva liberally supplied me with books ; and if many 
hours were lost in dissipation, many more were em- 
ployed in literary labour. In the country, Horace 
and Virgil, Juvenal and Ovid, were my assiduous 
companions: but, in town, I formed and executed a 
plan of study for the use of my Transalpine expe- 
dition : the topography of old Rome, the ancient 
geography of Italy, and the science of medals. 
1. I diligently read, almost always with a pen in 
my hand, the elaborate treatises of Nardini, Dona- 
tus, &c. which fill the fourth volume of the Roman 
Antiquities of Grsevius. 2. I next undertook and 
finished the Italia Antiqua of Cluverius, a learned 
native of Prussia, who had measured, on foot, every 
spot, and has compiled and digested every passage 
of the ancient writers. These passages in Greek 
or Latin authors I perused in the text of Cluverius, 
in two folio volumes : but I separately read the de- 
scriptions of Italy by Strabo, Pliny, and Pomponius 
Mela, the Catalogues of the Epic poets, the Itine- 
raries of Wesseling's Antoninus, and the coasting 
Voyage of Rutilius Numatianus ; and I studied 
two kindred subjects in the Mesures Itineraires of 
d' Anville, and the copious work of Bergier, Histoire 
des grands Chemins de V Empire Romain. From 



180 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. VI. 

these materials I formed a table of roads and dis- 
tances reduced to our English measure; filled a 

folio common-place book with my collections and 
remarks on the geography of Italy ; and inserted in 
my journal many long and learned notes on the 
insula' and populousness of Rome, the social war, 
the passage of the Alps by Hannibal, &c. 3. After 
glancing my eye over Addison's agreeable dia- 
logues, I more seriously read the great work of 
Ezechiel Spanheim, de Prcestantid et Urn Xumis- 
matum, and applied with him the medals of the 
kings and emperors, the families and colonies, to 
the illustration of ancient history. And thus was 
I armed for my Italian journey.(9) 

I shall advance with rapid brevity in the narrative 
of this tour, in which somewhat more than a year 
(April, I7C0 — May, 1764) was agreeably employed. 
Content with tracing my line of inarch, and slightly 
touching on my personal feelings, I shall wave the 
minute investigation of the scenes which have been 
viewed by thousands, and described by hundreds, 
of our modern travellers. Rome is the great object 
of our pilgrimage; and 1st, the journey ; 2d, the 
residence ; and 3d, the return ; will form the most 
proper and perspicuous division. 1. I climbed 
Mount Cenis, and descended into the plain of 
Piedmont, not on the back of an elephant, but on 
a light osier seat, in the hands of the dexterous and 
intrepid chairmen of the Alps. The architecture 
and government of Turin (10) presented the same 
aspect of tame and tiresome uniformity, but the 
court was regulated with decent and splendid 
economy ; and I was introduced to his Sardinian 



CHAP. VI. 31 Y LIFE AND WRITINGS. 181 

majesty 1 Charles Emanuel, who, after the incom- 
parable Frederic, held the second rank (proximus 
longo tamen intervallo) among the kings of Europe. 
The size and populousness of Milan could not 
surprise an inhabitant of London ; but the fancy is 
amused by a visit to the Boromean Islands, an en- 
chanted palace, a work of the fairies in the midst of 
a lake encompassed with mountains, and far removed 
from the haunts of men. (11) I was less amused by 
the marble palaces of Genoa, than by the recent 
memorials of her deliverance (in December, 1746) 
from the Austrian tyranny ; and I took a military 
survey of every scene of action within the inclosure 
of her double walls. My steps were detained at 
Parma and Modena, by the precious relics of the 
Farnese and Este collections ; but, alas ! the far 
greater part had been already transported, by in- 
heritance or purchase, to Naples and Dresden. By 
the road of Bologna and the Apennine, I at last 
reached Florence, where I reposed from June to Sep- 
tember, during the heat of the summer months. (12) 
In the Gallery, and especially in the Tribune, 
I first acknowledged, at the feet of the Venus 
of Medicis, that the chisel may dispute the pre- 
eminence with the pencil, a truth in the fine arts 
which cannot on this side of the Alps be felt or 
understood.(lo) At home I had taken some lessons 
of Italian ; on the spot I read with a learned native 
the classics of the Tuscan idiom ; but the shortness 
of my time, and the use of the French language, 
prevented my acquiring any facility of speaking ; 
and I was a silent spectator in the conversations of 

' See Appendix, Letter, No. XVII. 
N 3 



1S2 MEMOIRS 01 ( BAP, V 

our envoy, Sir Horace Mann, whose most serious 
business was that of entertaining the English at his 
hospitable table. (11) After leaving Florence, I com- 
pared the solitude of Pisa with the industry of Lucca 
and Leghorn, and continued my journey through 
Sienna to Home, where I arrived in the beginning 
of October. 2. My temper is not very susceptible 
of enthusiasm, and the enthusiasm which I do not 
feel, I have ever scorned to affect. But at the dis- 
tance of twenty-five years, I can neither forget nor 
express the strong emotions which agitated my 
mind as I first approached and entered the eternal 
city. After a sleepless night, I trod, with a lofty 
step, the ruins of the Forum ; each memorable spot 
where Romulus stood, or Tully spoke, or Caesar fell, 
was at once present to my eye ; and several days 
of intoxication were lost or enjoyed before I could 
descend to a cool and minute investigation. My 
guide was Mr. Byers, a Scotch antiquary of expe- 
rience and taste ; but in the daily labour of eighteen 
weeks, the powers of attention were sometimes 
fatigued, till I was myself qualified, in a last review, 
to select and study the capital works of ancient and 
modern art. Six weeks were borrowed for my tour 
of Naples, the most populous of cities, relative to 
its size, whose luxurious inhabitants seem to dwell 
on the confines of paradise and hell-fire. I was 
presented to the boy-king by our new envoy, Sir 
William Hamilton ; who, wisely diverting his cor- 
respondence from the Secretary of State to the 
Royal Society and British Museum, has elucidated 
a country of such inestimable value to the naturalist 
and antiquarian, Onmyreturn, 1 fondly embraced, 



CHAP. VI. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 1S3 

for the last time, the miracles of Rome ; but I de- 
parted without kissing the foot of Rezzonico 
(Clement XIII.), who neither possessed the wit of 
his predecessor Lambertini, nor the virtues of his 
successor Gangenelli. 3. In my pilgrimage from 
Rome to Loretto, I again crossed the Apennine : 
from the coast of the Adriatic I traversed a fruitful 
and populous country, which could alone disprove 
the paradox of Montesquieu, that modern Italy is 
a desert. Without adopting the exclusive prej udice 
of the natives, I sincerely admire the paintings of 
the Bologna school. I hastened to escape from the 
sad solitude of Ferrara, which in the age of Cassar 
was still more desolate. The spectacle of Venice 
afforded some hours of astonishment ; the univer- 
sity of Padua is a dying taper ; but Verona still 
boasts her amphitheatre, and his native Vicenza is 
adorned by the classic architecture of Palladio : 
the road of Lombardy and Piedmont (did Montes- 
quieu find them without inhabitants ?) led me back 
to Milan, Turin, and the passage of Mount Cenis, 
where I again crossed the Alps in my way to 
Lyons. 

The use of foreign travel has been often debated 
as a general question ; but the conclusion must be 
finally applied to the character and circumstances 
of each individual. With the education of boys, 
where or how they may pass over some juvenile 
years with the least mischief to themselves or 
others, I have no concern. But after supposing 
the previous and indispensable requisites of age, 
judgment, a competent knowledge of men and 
books, and a freedom from domestic prejudices, I 
n 4 



IS J- MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 

will briefly describe the qualifications which I 
deem most essential to a traveller. He should be 
endowed with an active, indefatigable vigour of 
mind and body, which can seize every mode of 
conveyance, and support, with a careless smile, 
every hardship of the road, the weather, or the 
inn. The benefits of foreign travel will cor- 
respond with the degrees of these qualifications ; 
but, in this sketch, those to whom I am known 
will not accuse me of framing my own panegyric. 
It was at Rome, on the loth of October I76I, as 
I sat musing amidst the ruins of the Capitol, 
while the bare-footed friars were singing vespers 
in the temple of Jupiter', that the idea of writing 
the decline and fall of the city first started to my 
mind. But my original plan was circumscribed 
to the decay of the city rather than of the em- 
pire ; and though my reading and reflections began 
to point towards that object, some years elapsed, 
and several avocations intervened, before 1 was 
seriously engaged in the execution of that laborious 
work. (15) 

I had not totally renounced the southern pro- 
vinces of France, but the letters which I found at 
Lyons were expressive of some impatience. Rome 
and Italy had satiated my curious appetite, and I 
was now ready to return to the peaceful retreat of 
my family and books. After a happy fortnight I 
reluctantly left Paris, embarked at Calais, again 
landed at Dover, after an interval of two years and 
five months, and hastily drove through the summer 
dust and solitude of London. 

2 Now the church of the Zocolauts, or Franciscan Friars. — S. 



NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 185 



NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 

No. 1. page 170. 

Journal, January 11th, 1763.] — I called upon Dr. Maty in the 
morning. He told me that the Duke de Nivernois desired to be ac- 
quainted with me. It was indeed with that view that I had written to 
Maty from Beriton to present, in my name, a copy of my book to him. 
Thence I went to Becket, paid him his bill (fifty-four pounds), and 
gave him back his translation. It must be printed, though very in- 
different. My comfort is, that my misfortune is not an uncommon one. 
We dined and supped at the Mallets. 

12th.] — I went with Maty to visit the Duke in Albemarle Street. 
He is a little emaciated figure, but appears to possess a good under- 
standing, taste, and knowledge. He offered me very politely letters for 
Paris. We dined at our lodgings. I went to Covent Garden to see 
Woodward in Bobadil, and supped with the Mallets at George Scott's. 

Journal, Jan. 19th, 1763.] — I waited upon Lady Hervey and the 
Duke de Nivernois, and received my credentials. Lady Hervey's are 
for M. le Comte de Caylus and Madame Geoffrin. The Duke received 
me civilly, but (perhaps through Maty's fault) treated me more as a 
man of letters than as a man of fashion. His letters are entirely in that 
style ; for the Count de Caylus and MM. de la Bleterie, de S te Palaye, 
Caperonier, du Clos, de Forcemagne, and d'Alembert. I then undressed 
for the play. My father and I went to the Rose, in the passage of the 
play-house, where we found Mallet, with about thirty friends. We 
dined together, and went thence into the pit, where we took our places 
in a body, ready to silence all opposition. However, we had no oc- 
casion to exert ourselves. Notwithstanding the malice of party, Mallet's 
nation, connections, and, indeed, imprudence, we heard nothing but 
applause. I think it was deserved. The plan was borrowed from M. 
de la Motte, but the details and language have great merit. A fine 
vein of dramatic poetry runs through the piece. The scenes between 
the father and son awaken almost every sensation of the human breast ; 
and the counsel would have equally moved, but for the inconvenience 
unavoidable upon all theatres, that of entrusting fine speeches to indif- 
ferent actors. The perplexity of the catastrophe is much, and I believe 
justly, criticised. But another defect made a stronger impression upon 
me. When a poet ventures upon the dreadful situation of a father who 
condemns his son to death, there is no medium, the father must either 
be a monster or a hero. His obligations of justice, of the public good, 
must be as binding, as apparent, as perhaps those of the first Brutus. 
The cruel necessity consecrates his actions, and leaves no room for re- 
pentance. The thought is shocking, if not carried into action. In the 



1SG MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE -VXD WRITINGS. 

execution of Brutus's sons I am sensible of that fatal necessity. With- 
out such an example, the unsettled liberty of Rome would have perished 
the instant after its birth. But Alonzo might have pardoned his son 
for a rasli attempt, the cause of which was a private injury, and whose 
consequences could never have disturbed an established government. 
He might have pardoned such a crime in any other subject ; and as the 
laws could exact only an equal rigour for a son, a vain appetite for 
glory, ami a mad affectation of heroism, could alone have influenced 
him to exert an unequal and superior severity.* 

No. 2. page 172. 

Journal, 21 Fevrier, 1763.] — Aujourd'huij'ai commence ma tournee, 
pour voir les endroits dignes d'attention dans la ville. D'Augny m'a 
accompagne. Nous sommes alles d'abord a la bibliotheque de l'Abbaye 
de St. Germain des Prez, oil tout le mondc etoit occupe a l'arrangenient 
d'un cabinet de euriosites, et a l'hopital des invalides, ou le dome etoit 
ferme a cause des reparations qu'on y faisoit. II faut done ditferer la 
visite et la description de ces deux endroits. De la nous sommes alles 
voir l'ecole militaire. Comme ce batiment s'eleve a cote des invalides, 
bien des gens y verroient un moyen assez facile d'apprecier les ames 
differentes de leuxs fondateurs. Dans l'un tout est grand et fastueux, 
dans l'autre tout est petit et mesquin. De petits corps de logis blancs 
et assez propres, qui, au lieu de 500 gentilshommes, dont on a parle, 
en contiennent 258, composent tout l'etablissement ; car le manege ct 
les ecuries ne sont rien. II est vrai qu'on dit que ces batimens ne sont 
qu'un echaffaudage, qu'on doit oter, pour clever le veritable ouvrage sur 
les debris. II faut bien en effet qu'on n'ait pas bati pour l'eternite, 
puisque dans vingt ans la plupart des poutres se sont pourries. Nous 
jettames ensuite un coup-d'ceil sur l'eglise de St. Sulpice, dont la facade 
(le pretexte et le fruit de tant de lotteries) n'est point encore achevee. 

No. 3. page 174. 

M. Suard thus describes the impression made by Gibbon's manners 
in society : — 

" As to his manners in society, without doubt the agrecableness 
(amabilite) of Gibbon was neither that yielding ami retiring com- 
plaisance, nor that modesty which is forgetful of self; but his vanity 
(amour-propre) never showed itself in an offensive manner : anxious 
to succeed and to please, he wished to command attention, and ob- 
tained it without difficulty In a conversation animated, sprightly, and 
full of matter: all that was dictatorial (tranchant) in his tone betrayed 
not so much that desire of domineering over others, which i> always 
offensive, as confidence in himself; and that confidence was justified 

: Mallet's dramas arc now entirely, ami not undeservedly, forgotten. 
— M. 



CHAP. VI. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 187 

both by his powers and by his success. Notwithstanding this, his con- 
versation never carried one away (n'entrainait jamais) ; its fault was 
a kind of arrangement, which never permitted him to say any tiling 
unless well. This fault might be attributed to the difficulty of speak- 
ing a foreign language, had not his friend, Lord Sheffield, who defends 
him from this suspicion of study in his conversation, admitted at the 
least, that before he wrote a note or a letter he arranged completely 
in his mind what he wished to express. He appears, indeed, always 
to have written thus. Dr. Gregory, in his Letters on Literature, says 
that Gibbon composed as he was walking up and down his room, and 
that he never wrote a sentence without having perfectly formed and 
arranged it in his head. Besides, French was at least as familiar to 
him as English ; his residence at Lausanne, where he spoke it exclu- 
sively, had made it for some time his habitual language; and one 
would not have supposed that he had ever spoken any other, if he 
had not been betrayed by a very strong accent, by certain tics of pro- 
nunciation, certain sharp tones, which to ears accustomed from in- 
fancy to softer inflexions of voice, marred the pleasure which was felt 
in listening to him." — Quarterly Review, vol. i. p. 277. — M. 

No. 4. page 174. 

Edicard Gibbon, Esq. to Mrs. Gibbon, Beriton. 

Dear Madam, Paris, February the 12th, 1763. 

You remember our agreement — short and frequent letters. The 
first part of the treaty you have no doubt of my observing. I think I 
ought not to leave you any of the second. A propos of the treaty : 
our definitive one was signed here yesterday, and this morning the 
Duke of Bridgewater and Mr. Neville went for London with the news 
of it. The plenipotentiaries sat up till ten o'clock in the morning at 
the ambassador of Spain's ball, and then went to sign this treaty, which 
regulates the fate of Europe. 

Paris, in most respects, has fully answered my expectations. I have 
a number of very good acquaintance, which increase every day; for 
nothing is so easy as the making them here. Instead of complaining 
of the want of them, I begin already to think of making a choice. Next 
Sunday, for instance, I have only three invitations to dinner. Either 
in the houses you are already acquainted, you meet with people who 
ask you to come and see them, or some of your friends offer themselves 
to introduce you. When I speak of these connections, I mean chiefly 
for dinner and the evening. Suppers, as yet, I am pretty much a 
stranger to, and I fancy shall continue so ; for Paris is divided into two 
species, who have but little communication with each other. The one, 
who is chiefly connected with" the men of letters, dine very much at home, 
are glad to see their friends, and pass the evenings till about nine, in 
agreeable and rational conversation. The others are the most fashion- 
able, sup in numerous parties, and always play, or rather game, both 



1SS MEMOIRS OF MY LITE AND WRITINGS. 

before and after supper. You may easily guess which sort suits me 
best. Indeed, Madam, we may say what we please of the frivolity of 
the French, but I do assure you, that in a fortnight passed at Pari-, I 
have beard more conversation worth remembering, and seen more men 
of letters among the people of fashion, than I had done in two or three 
winters in London. 

Amongst my acquaintance I cannot help mentioning M. llelvetius, 
the author of the famous book de FEsprit. I met him at dinner at 
Madame Geoffrin's, where he took great notice of me, made me a visit 
next day, has ever since treated me, not in a polite but a friendly man- 
ner. Besides being a sensible man, an agreeable companion, and the 
worthiest creature in the world, he has a very pretty wife, a hundred 
thousand livres a year, and one of the best tables in Paris. The only 
thing I dislike in him is his great attachment to, and admiration for, 
* # # # ; whose character is indeed at Paris beyond any thing you 
can conceive. To the great civility of this foreigner, who was not 
obliged to take the least notice of me, I must just contrast the behaviour 
of # # # * # -*. 

Mr. Gibbon to his Father. 

Dear Sir, Paris, February 24. 1763. 

I have now passed nearly a month in this place, and I can say with 
truth, that it has answered my most sanguine expectations. The build- 
ings of every kind, the libraries, the public diversions, take up a great 
part of my time ; and I have already found several houses, where it is 
both very easy and very agreeable to be acquainted. Lady Ilervey's 
recommendation to Madame Geoffrin was a most excellent one. Her 
house is a very good one ; regular dinners there every Wednesday, and 
the best company of Paris, in men of letters and people of fashion. 
It was at her house I connected myself with M. llelvetius, who, from 
his heart, his head, and his fortune, is a most valuable man. 

At his house I was introduced to the Baron d'Olbach, who is a man 
of parts and fortune, and has two dinners every week.* The other 
houses I am known in, are the Duchess d'Aiguillon's, Madame la 
Comtesse de Froulay's, Madame du Bocage, Madame Boyer, M. le 
Marquis de Mirabcau, and M. de Forcemagne, All these people have 
their different merit; in some I meet with good dinners; in others, 
societies for the evening; and in all, good sense, entertainment, and 
civility ; which, as 1 have no favours to ask, or business to transact 
with them, is sufficient for me. Their men of letters arc as affable 



# Generally considered to have been the author ofthe odious "Systeme 
delaNature." The whole of this society isnow well known from the 
Correspondence of Grimm, and from other works. The Memoirs of 

Diderot contain much which is curious, and bj no means so laudatory, 
as Gibbon is on the character of llelvetius, and the mode oi' living 
with Holbach.— M. 



CHAP. VI. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 189 

and communicative as I expected. My letters to them did me no harm, 
but were very little necessary. My book had been of great service 
to me, and the compliments I have received upon it would make me 
insufferably vain, if I laid any stress on them. When I take notice of 
the civilities I have received, I must take notice too of what I have seen 
of a contrary behaviour. You know how much I always built upon the 
Count de Caylus : he has not been of the least use to me. With great 
difficulty I have seen him, and that is all. I do not, however, attribute 
his behaviour to pride, or dislike to me, but solely to the man's general 
character, which seems to be a very odd one. De la Motte, Mrs. Mallet's 
friend, has behaved very drily to me, though I have dined with him 
twice. But 1 can forgive him a great deal, in consideration of his having 
introduced me to M. d'Augny (Mrs. Mallet's son). Her men are ge- 
nerally angels or devils ; but here I really think, without being very 
prone to admiration, that she has said very little too much of him. 
As far as I can judge, he has certainly an uncommon degree of under- 
standing and knowledge, and, I believe, a great fund of honour and 
probity. We are very much together, and I think our intimacy seems 
to be growing into a friendship. Next Sunday we go to Versailles ; 
the king's guard is done by a detachment from Paris, which is relieved 
every four days ; and as he goes upon this command, it is a very good 
occasion for me to see the palace. I shall not neglect, at the same time, 
the opportunity of informing myself of the French discipline. 

The great news at present is the arrival of a very extraordinary 
person from the Isle of France in the East Indies. An obscure French- 
man, who was lately come into the island, being very ill, and given over, 
said, that before he died he must discharge his conscience of a great 
burden he had upon it, and declared to several people he was the 
accomplice of Damien, and the very person who held the horses. Un- 
luckily for him, the man recovered after this declaration, was imme- 
diately sent prisoner to Paris, and is just landed at Port 1' Orient, from 
whence he is daily expected here, to unravel the whole mystery of that 
dc_rk affair. This story (which at first was laughed at) has now gained 
entire credit, and I apprehend must be founded on real fact. 

I am, dear Sir, most affectionately yours, 

E. Gibbon. 

No. 5. page 174. 

Journal, Fevrier 23. 1763.] — Je fis une visite a l'Abbe de la Ble- 
terie, qui veut me mener chez la Duchesse d' Aiguillon ; je me fis ecrire 
chez M. de Bougainville que j'ai grande envie de connoitre, et me rendis 
ensuite chez le Baron d'Olbach, ami de M. Helvetius. C'etoit ma 
premiere visite, et le premier pas dans une fort bonne maison. Le 
Baron a de l'esprit et des connoissances, et surtout il donne souvent et 
fort bien a diner. 

Fevrier 24.] — L'Abbe Barthelemy est fort aimable et n'a de l'anti- 



190 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 

guaire qu'une trea grande Erudition. Je finis la soiree par un souper 
trea agreable chez Madame Bontema avec M. le Marquia de Mimbeau. 
Cet hommeest aingulier ■, il aasaez d'imagination pour dix autres,et pas 

assez de sens rassis pour lui seul. Je lui ai fait beaucoup de questions 
sur les titres de la noblesse Franchise ; mais tout ce que j'en ai pu 
comprendre, c'eat que personne n'a la dessus des idees bien nettes. 

Mai, 17G3.] — Muni d'une double lettre de recommendation pour 
M. le Comtc de Caylus, je m'etois imagine que je trouverois reunia en 
lui l'homme de lettres et l'homme de qualite. Je le vis trois ou quatre 
fois, et jc vis un homme simple, uni, bon, et qui me temoignoit une 
bonte extreme. Si je n'en ai point profite, je l'attribue moins a son 
caractere qu'a son genre de vie. II se leve de grand matin, court les 
atteliers des artistes pendant tout le jour, et rentre chez lui a six Inures 
du soir pour se mettre en robe de chambre, et s'enfermer dans son 
cabinet. Le moyen de voir ses amis ? 

Si ces recommendations etoient steriles, il y en eut d'autres qui de- 
vinrent aussi fecondes par leurs suites, qu'elles etoient agreables en 
elles memes. Dans une capitale comme Paris, il est necessaire, il est 
juste que des lettres de recommendation vous ayent distingue de la foule. 
Mais des que la glace est rompue, vos connoissances se multiplient, et 
vos nouveaux amis se font un plaisir de vous en procurer d'autres plus 
nouveaux encore. Heureux effet de ce caractere leger et aimable du 
Francois, qui a etabli dans Paris une douceur et une liberte dans la 
societe, inconnues a l'antiquite, et encore ignorees des autres nations. 
A Londres il faut faire son chemin dans les maisons qui ne s'ouvrent 
qu'avec peine. La on croit vous faire plaisir en vous recevant. Ici on 
croit s'en faire a soi-meme. Aussi je connois plus de maisons a Paris 
qu'a Londres : le fait n'est pas vraisemblable, mais il est vrai. 

Note 6. page 175. 

Lausanne, Aoiit 17, 1763.] — Apres diner je suis alle en ville. J'ai 
monte au chateau, ou il y avoit une journee cmbarrassante. C******** 
C****** et Mademoiselle de ******* y etoient toutes les deux. Je 
me suis decide pour C. Elle a eu toutes les attentions. L'autre en 
a paru piquee. Avec quel serieux la vanite des femmes traite cea 
misercs ! J'ai soupe chcz Pavillard. 

Aoiit 18.] — Je suis alle diner a Mcsery. M. le Comtc de Golofskin 
et sa femmc. Le Comte est d'une famillc trea distinguee en Russie. 
Les dernicrcs revolutions de cct empire leur avoient 6te leura biens, a 
L' exception de la terre de Mona, qu'ils avoient achetee au Pays de 
Vaud. La mort de l'lmperatricc Elizabeth les leur rendit ; mais le 
Comte prcTcre sagement la retraitc d'un pays libre aux orages du ilcs- 
potisme. II est poli, mais froid. On lui donnc de l'csprit. II pent 
en avoir parmi ses amis. Sa femme, fille du Profcsscur Mosheim ilc 
Gottingen, paroit vive et gaic. Ces deux epoux sont un modele d'aflfec- 
tion conjugale. 



NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 191 



Note 7. page 176. 

Aout 21.] — J'ai dine a Benans, chez le Prince Lonis de Wirtemberg. 
C'est pour la seconde fois. II m'avoit prie pour rencontrer le Prince de 
Ligne, qui nous a fait faux bond. II paroit que le Prince de Wirtem- 
berg me goute beaucoup. 'A la politesse aisee et naturelle qu'il a pour 
tout le monde, il ajoute a mon egard un ton de confiance, d'estime, et 
presque d'affection. Avec de pareilles manieres, il n'est pas possible 
qu'un Prince vous deplaise. Je trouve a celui-ci de l'esprit, des con- 
noissances, et beaucoup d'usage du monde. Comme il connoit presque 
toutes les cours de l'Europe, les anecdotes politiques et militaires, dont 
il assaisonne sa conversation, la rendent tres amusante. Je vois qu'il 
n'a point l'orgueil d'un prince Allemand, et l'indignation qu'il faisoit 
paroitre contre un de ses ancetres qui avoit voulu vendre un village pour 
acheterun cheval, me fait esperer qu'il n'en a pas la durete. Je croirois 
assez qu'il a toujours un peu manque de prudence et de conduite ; des 
projets aussi ambitieux que chimeriques dont on l'accuse*, sa vie am- 
bulante, ses querelles avec son frere, ses dissipations, sa disgrace a la 
cour de Vienne ; tout contribue a m'en persuader. Sa situation dans 
ce pays en est presqu'une preuve. Un prince d'une des premieres 
maisons de l'empire, relegue (dirai-je) ou retire en Suisse, oiiil soutient 
a peine l'etat d'un gentilhomme,doit y etre un peu par sa faute. Sa femme 
l'a accompagne dans sa retraite. C'est une demoiselle Saxonne qu'il a 
epouse sans biens, et sans beaute. Le public ajouteroit, et sans esprit ; 
mais je commence a lui en trouver. Comme le prince s'est mesallie, 
les lois orgueilleuses de l'empire excluent ses enfans de la succession. 
Heureusement ils n'ont encore eu qu'une fille. V A mon retour de 
Mesery, j'y ai trouve deux Anglois qui ont soupe avec nous. 



Note 8. page 178. 

Journal, Septembre 16. 1763.] — ##### et Frey nous ont quitte. 
Le premier est une mechante bete, grossier, ignorant, et sans usage du 
monde. Sa violence lui a fait vingt mauvaises affaires ici. On vouloit 
cependant lui faire entreprendre le voyage d'ltalie, mais Frey refusant 
de l'y accompagner, on a pris la partie de le rapeller en Angleterre en 
le faisant passer par Paris. Frey est philosophe, et fort instruit, mais 
froid et nullement homme d'esprit. II est las de courir le monde avec 
des jeunes foux. Apres avoir rendu celui-ci a sa famille, il compte 
venir chercher le repos etla retraite dans ce pays. Qu'il a raison ! 



* V. le Testament Politique du Marechal de Bellisle. Ouvrage digne 
d'un laquais, mais d'un laquais de ministre, qui a entendu beaucoup 
d'anecdotes curieuses. 



192 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 

Septembre 21' . — Fai essuyd une petite mortification an cercle. 
Le depart de Frej ayant faitvaquer I'emploi de directeur des 6trangef», 
on m'avoit fait entrevoir qu'on me le destinoit, et ma franchise naturclle 
ae m'avoit pas permis de dissimuler que je le recevrois avec plaisir, et 
que je m'y attendois. Cependant la pluralite desvoix I'a donne* s 
M. Roel, Hollandois. J'ai vu qu'on a saisi le premier moment que les 
loix permettoient de balloter, et que, si j'avois voulu rassembler mes 
amis,je l'aurois emporte; maisje sais en meme tems queje 1'aurois eu 
il y a trois mois, sans y songer un moment. Ma reputation baisse ici 
avec quelque raison, et j'ai des ennemis. 

Septembre 2o mc .] — J'ai passu l'apres-diner chez Madame de Boehat. 
Je ne l'avois pas vue depuis le 1-i de ce mois. Ellc ne m'a point parle, 
ni n'a paru s'etre appercue de mon absence. Ce silence m'a fait de la 
peine. J'avois une tres belle reputation ici pour les mceurs, mais je 
vois qu'on commence a me confondre avec mes compatriotes, et a me 
regarder comme un homme qui aime le vin et le desordre. 

Octobre 15 me .] — J'ai passe l'apres-midi chez Madame de Mesery. 
Elle vouloit me faire rencontrer avec une demoiselle Francoise qu'elle 
a prie a souper ; cette demoiselle, qui s'appelle Le Franc, a six pieds de 
haut. Sa taille, sa figure, son ton, sa conversation, tout annonce le 
grenadier le plus determine, mais un grenadier qui a de l'esprit, des con- 
noissances, et l'usage du monde. Aussi son sexe, son nom, son etat, 
tout est mystere. Elle se dit Parisienne, fille de condition, qui s'est 
retiree dans ce pays pour cause de religion. Ne seroit-ce pas pliitot 
pour une affaire d'honneur ? 

Decembre l er . 1763.] — Nous somme tous montes a l'eglise pour voir 
la ceremonie du jour. C'etoit la presentation du Bailif a la grande 
eglise, et la prestation du serment par la ville de Lausanne, les vassaux 
et tous les communautes du bailliage. Le grand ministre Polier de 
llollens a preche a cette occasion. II nous a etonne ; au lieu de ces 
compositions sans chaleur et sans idees qu'il ne qualifie que trop 
souvent du nom de sermons, il a fait paroitre aujourd'hui les talens d'un 
orateur et les scntimens d'un citoyen : il a su parler au souverain de 
ses devoirs, et au peuple de ses droits fondes les uns et les autres sur 
la volonte des hommes fibres qui vouloient se donner un prince et non 
pas un tyran. 11 a loue peu, avec justesse et sans fadeur. Son dibit 
et son geste ^toient assortis au ton de son sujet. lis etoient pleins ile 
dignite, d'onction, et de force. Apres le sermon, le Tresorier s'est 
rendu au chceur de Peglise suivi du Bailif et de toutc l'assemblee. La 
il a prescnte au Bailliage leur nouveau gouverneur, qu'il a annonce par 
un discours court, mais qui m'a paru rempli de choses. Le Boursier 
lui a repondu, mais si has, que j'ai perdu tout ce qu'il a dit. Ce mot de 
perdu, est-il a sa place ? Au reste, jamais eeienionie n'a ete conduite 
avec moins de decence. Le desordre etoit affreux. Les Grenadiers 
de George Grand paroissoient n'y etre que pour repousser les lionnetes 
gens et pour laisser entrcr la canaille. 



CHAP. VI. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 193 

Lausanne, Decembre 16 me . 1763.] — Je me suis leve tard, et une 
visite fort amicale de M. de Chandieu Viliars*, m'a enleve ce qui me 
restoit de la matinee. M. de Chandieu a servi en France avec dis- 
tinction, il s'est retire avec le grade de marechal de camp. C'est un 
homme d'une grande politesse, d'un esprit vif et facile; il seroit 
aujourd'hui, a soixante ans, l'agrement d'une societe de jeunes filles. 
C est presque le seul etranger qui ait pu acquerir l'aisance des manieres 
Francoises, sans en prendre en meme terns les airs bruyans et etourdis. 

Lausanne, Decembre 18 me . 1763.] — C'etoit un Dimanche de Com- 
munion. Les ceremonies religieuses sont bien entendues dans ce pays. 
Elles sont rares, et par la meme plus respectees ; les vieillards se 
plaignent a la verite du refroidissement de la devotion ; cependant un 
jour, comme celui-ci, offre encore un spectacle tres edifiant. Point 
d'affaires, point d'assemblee; on s'interdit jusqu'au whist, si necessaire 
a l'existence d'un Lausannois. 

II y a quelques jours que j'ai bien perdu mon temps. Heureux 
encore si ce n'etoit que mon temps, que j'eusse perdu ! J'ai beaucoup 
joue, ou du moins j'ai beaucoup parie au cercle ; apres quelques com- 
mencemens de bonheur je me suis enfile au ivhist et au piquet, et j'ai 
perdu un quarantaine de Louis. J'ai en alors le courage de m'arreter 
tout d'un coup, et sans me laisser eblouir par de vaines esperances de 
rattraper ma perte, j'ai renonce au gros jeu, du moins pendant quelque 
temps. II voudroit mieux y renoncer a jamais ; il y a tant d'in- 
conveniens, la perte du temps, la mauvaise compagnie ; ces agitations 
continuelles de crainte et d'esperance qui aigrissent a la longue l'humeur 
et qui derangent la sante. Le gout d'etude et la reflexion, peut-il 
s'associer avec celui du jeu ? C'est d'ailleurs une remarque que 
l'experience m'a souvent fait faire ; que la partie ne sauroit etre egale 
et qu'une perte quelconque est sentie bien plus vivement que ne le 
seroit un gain pared. La raison en est claire. On avoit deja arrange 
sa depense sur son revenu, et cette perte inattendue entraine la privation 
de necessaire ou du moins de quelques agremens sur lesquels on 
comptoit. Mais le gain, trop precaire et trop incertain pour devoir 
changer les plans d'un homme sense, ne sert tout au plus qu'a satisfaire 
la fantaisie du moment. Voila de la sagesse apres coup. Si j'avois 
fait ces reflexions quelques jours plutot, je me serois epargne quelques 
desagremens de la part de mon pere qui peut ne se point accommoder 
de ce surcroit de depense. 

Decembre 31 me .] — Jettons un coup d'ceil sur cette annee 1763. 
Voyons comment j'ai employe cette portion de mon existence qui s'est 
ecoulee et qui ne reviendra plus. Le mois de Janvier s'est passe dans 
le sein de ma famille a qui il falloit sacrifier tous mes momens, 



* The father of Madame de Severy, whose family were Mr. Gibbon's 
most intimate friends, after he had settled at Lausanne in the year 1783. 
— S. 



194 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WR1TING8. 

parcequ'ils etoient lea derniers dana lea soins d'un depart et dans 
1'embarraa d'un voyage. Dana ce voyage cependant je trouvai moyeo 
de lire lea lettres de Busbequhu, Ministre Imperial a la Porte. Elles 
sont an>-i interessantes qu' instructives. Je restai a Paria depuia le 28 
Janvief juaqu'au 9 Mai. Pendant tout ce teraa je n'etudiai point. 
Les amusements m'occupoient beaucoup, et 1' habitude de la dissipation, 
qu'on prend si facilemcnt dans les grandes villes, ne me permettoient 
pas de mettre a profit le terns qui me demeuroit. A la verite, si j'ai 
peu feuillete les livres, 1'observation de tous les objets curieux qui se 
presentent dans une grande capitale, et la conversation avec les plus 
grands hommes du siecle, m'ont instruit de beaucoup de choses que je 
n'aurois point trouve dans les livres. Les sept on huit derniers mois 
de cette annee ont cite" plus tranquilles. Des que je me suis vu etabli 
a Lausanne, j'ai entrepris une etude suivie sur la geographic ancienne 
de I'ltalie. Mon ardeur s'est tres bien soutenue pendant six semaines 
jusqu'a la fin du mois de Juin. Ce fut alors qu'un voyage de Geneve 
interrompit un peu mon assiduite, que le sejour de Mesery m'offrit 
mille distractions, et que la societe de Saussure acheva tie me faire 
perdre mon terns. Je repris mon travail avec ce Journal an milieu 
d'Aout, et depuis ce tems jusqu'au commencement de Xovenibre,ya\ mis 
li profit tous mes instans ; j'avoue que pendant les deux derniers mois 
mon ardeur s'est un peu ralentie. pen 1 ™ 1 , Dans cette etude suivie j'ai 
lu : 1. Pres de deux livres de la geographic de Strabon sur I'ltalie deux 
fois. 2. Une partie du deuxieme livre de l'histoire naturelle de PUne. 

3. Le quatrieme chapitre du deuxieme livre de Pomponius Mela, 

4. Les Itineraires d'Antonin, et de Jerusalem pour ce qui regarde 
I'ltalie. Je les ai lus avec les Commentaires de Wesseling, &c. Pen 
ai tire des tables de toutes les grandes routes de I'ltalie, reduisant 
partout les milles Romains, en milles Anglois, et en lieues de France, 
selons les calculs de M. d'Anville. 5. L'Histoire des Grands Chemins 
de l'empire Romain, par M. Bergier, deux volumes in 4°. 6. Quelques 
Extraits choisis de Ciceron, Titc Live, Velleius Paterculus, Tacitt'. et 
les deux Plines. La Roma Fetus de Nardini et plusieurs autres 
opuscules sur le merae sujet qui composent presque tout le quatrieme 
tome du Tresor des Antiquites Romaines de Graevius. 7. L' Italia 
Antigua de Cluvier, en deux volumes in folio. S. h'lter on le Voyage 
de CI. Rutilius Numatianus dans les Gaules. 9. Les Catalogues de 
Virgile. 10. Celui de Silius Italicus. 11. Le Voyage d'Horace a 
Brundusium. N.B. J'ai lu deux fois ces trois derniers morccaux. I?. 
Le Traite sur les Mesures Itineraires par M. d'Anville, et quelquea 
iMemoires de 1'Academie des Belles Lettres. 11' ", On me litattendre 
Nardini de la Bibliotheque de Geneve. Je voulus remplir ce moment 
de vuide par la lecture tie Juvenal, poete qui je ne connoissois encott 
que dc reputation. Je le lu deux fois avec plaisir et avec som. 
1 1 1'""", Pendant l'annee j'ai In quelques journaux, entre autres le Journal 

Etranger depuis son commencement, un tome des Nouvelles de Bayle, 
et les ww premiers volumes de la Bibliotheque raisonn^e. IV™**, 
J'ai bcaucoiq) eerit de mon Keeueil G^Ographique de I'ltalie qui est 



CHAP. VI. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 195 

deja bien ample et assez curieux. V ment , Je ne dois point oublier ce 
journal meme qui est devenu un ouvrage; 214 pages en quatre inois et 
demi et des pages des raieux fournies font un objet considerable. Aussi 
sans compter un grand nombre d'observations detachees, il s'y trouve 
des dissertations savantes et raisonnees. Celle du passage d'Annibal 
contient dix pages, et celle sur la guerre sociale en a douze. Mais ces 
morceaux sont trop etendus, et le journal meme a besoin d'une reforme 
qui lui retranche quantite de pieces qui sont assez etrangeres a son 
veritable plan. Apres avoir un peu reflechi la dessus, voici quelques 
regies que je me suis faites sur les objets qui lui conviennent. I men t } 
Toute ma vie civile et privee, mes amusemens, mes liaisons, mes ecarts 
meme, et toutes mes reflexions qui ne roulent que sur des sujets qui 
me sont personnels, je conviens que tout cela n'est interessant que pour 
moi, mais aussi ce n'est que pour moi que j'ecris mon journal. IP 161 ", 
Tout ce que j'apprens par l'observation ou la conversation. A l'egard 
de celle-ci je ne rapporterai que ce que je tiens de personnes tout a la 
fois instruites et veridiques, lorsqu'il est question de faits, ou du petit 
nombre de ceux qui meritent le titre de grand homme, s'il s'agit de sen- 
timens et d'opinions. III ment , J'y mettrai soigneusement tout ce qu'on 
peut appeller la partie materielle de mes etudes; combien d'heures j'ai 
travaille, combien de pages j'ai ecrit ou lu, avec une courte notice du 
sujet qu'elles contenoient. IV ment , Je serois fache de lire sans reflechir 
sur mes lectures, sans porter des jugemens raisonnes sur mes auteurs, 
et sans eplucher avec soin leurs idees et leurs expressions. Mais toute 
lecture ne fournit pas egalement. II y a des livres qu'on parcourt, et 
il y en a qu'on lit ; il y en a enfin qu'on doit etudier. Mes observa- 
tions sur ceux de la premiere classe ne peuvent qu'etre courtes et de- 
tachees. Elles conviennent au journal. Celles qui regardent la seconde 
classe n'yentreront qu'autant qu'elles auront le meme caractere. V ment , 
Mes reflexions sur ce petit nombre d'auteurs classiques, qu'on medite 
avec soin, seront naturellement plus approfondies et plus suivies. C'est 
pour elles, et pour des pieces plus etendues et plus originales, auxquelles 
la lecture ou la meditation peut donner lieu, que je ferai un recueil 
separe. Je conserverai cependant sa liaison avec le journal par des 
renvois constans qui marqueront le numero de chaque piece avec le 
tems et l'occasion de sa composition. Moyennant ces precautions mon 
journal ne peut que m'etre utile. Ce compte exact de mon tems m'en 
fera mieux sentir le prix ; il dissipera par son detail, l'illusion qu'on se 
fait d'envisager seulement les annees et les mois et de mepriser les 
heures et les jours. Je ne dis rien de 1'agrement. C'en est un bien 
grand cependant de pouvoir repasser chaque epoque de sa vie, et de se 
placer, des qu'on le veut, au milieu de toutes les petites scenes qu'on a 
joue, ou qu'on a vu jouer. 

Avril 6, 1764.] — J'ai ete eveille par Pavilliard et Holroyd pour 
arreter une facheuse affaire qui s'etoit passee au bal apres notre depart. 
Guise, qui faisoit la cour a Mademoiselle d'lllens depuis long tems, 

o 2 



10n MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE \SD WRITINGS. 

voyoit avec peine que Van Berken (un Hollandois) menacoit de lc 
Bupplanter. II ne repondoit jamais ;iu\ politesses de son rival, que par 
des brusqueries; et a la fin a ['occasion de la main de Mademoiselle 
d'Ulens il s'emporta contre lui lc- plus mal a propos du inonde, et le 
traita devant tout le monde cCimpertinenty&c. J'ai appris de Pavilliard 
que Van Berken lui avoit envoye un cartel, et que la reponse de Guise 
ne I'ayant point contcnte il=> devoient se rencontrer a cinq heures du 
soir. An desespoir de voir mon ami engage dans une affaire qui ne 
pouvoit que lui faire du tort, j'ai couru chez M. de Crousaz ou de- 
meuroit Van Berken. J'ai bientot vu qu'ilne lui falloit qu'unc explica- 
tion assez legere, jointe a quelque apologie de la part de Guise pour le 
desarmer, et je suis retourne chez lui avec Holrovd pour ['engager a la 
donner. Nous lui avons fait comprendre que l'aveu d'un veritable tort 
ne blessoit jamais l'honneur, et que son insulte envers les dames aussi 
bien qu'envers Van Berken etoit sans excuse. Je lui ai dicte un billet 
convenable, mais sans lamoindre bassesse, que j'ai porte au Hollandois. 
B a rendu les armes sur le champ, lui a fait la reponse la plus polie, et 
m'a remercie mille fois du role que j'avois fait. En verite cet homme 
n'est pas difficile. Apres diner j'ai vu nos dames a qui j'ai porte une 
lettre d'excuses. La mere n'en veut plus a Guise, mais Mademoiselle 
d'Ulens est desolee du tort que cette affaire peut lui faire dans le monde. 
Cette negociation m'a pris le jour entier; mais peut on micux employer 
un jour qu'a sauver la vie, peut-etre a deux personnes, et a conserver la 
reputation d'un ami ? Au reste j'ai vu au fond plus d'un caraetere. 
Guise est brave, vrai, et sense, mais d'une impetuosite qui n'est que 
plus dangereuse pour etre supprimee a 1' ordinaire. C***** est d'une 
etourderie d'enfant. De Salis d'une indifference qui vient plus d'un 
defaut de sensibilite, que d'un exces de raison. J'ai concu une veritable 
amitie pour Holroyd. II a beaucoup de raison et des sentimens d'hon- 
neur avec un coeur des mieux place. 

No. 9. page ISO. 

Journal, Lausanne, Avril 17. 17G4.] — Guise et moi, nous avons 
donne un diner excellent et beaucoup de vin a Dupleix, et a beamoup 
d'autres. Apres diner nous nous sommes echappes pour faire quelques 
visites aux Grands, aux Seigneux, et aux d'Ulens. Je pars avec quel- 
ques regrets : cependant un pen de vin. et une gaicte dont je ne pouvois 
rendre raison, m'ont rendu d'une etourderie sans pareille, vis-a-vis de 
ces petites. Je leur ai cl it cent folies, et nous nous sommes embrastfes 
en riant. M&erj nous a donnd \u\ ties beau souper avec une partie de 
la compagnie du matin, augmentee de Bourgeois et de Pavilliard. Ce 
souper, les adieux, sur tout a Pavillard, que j'aime ^entablement, vt les 
pr^paratifs du depart, m'ont occupe jusqu'a <\vu\ heures du matin. 

Je quitte Lausanne aver moins de regrel que la premiere fois. Je 
n'v laisse plus que des connoissances. ( I'etoit la maitresse et l'ami dont 



CHAP. VI. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 197 

je pleurois la perte. D'ailleurs je voyois Lausanne avec les yeux encore 
novices d'un jeune homme, qui lui devoit la partie raisonnable de son 
existence, et qui jugeoit sans objets de comparaison. Aujourd'hui j'y 
vois une ville nial batie, au milieu d'un pays delicieux, qui jouit de la paix 
et du repos, et qui les prend pour la liberte. Un peuple nombreux et 
bien eleve, qui aime la societe, qui y est propre, et qui admet avec plaisir 
les etrangers dans ses cotteries, qui seroient bien plus agreables si la 
conversation n'avoit pas cede la place au jeu. Les femmes sont jolies, 
et malgre leur grande liberte, elles sont tres sages. Tout au plus 
pcuvent-elles etreun peu complaisantes, dans l'idee honnete, mais incer- 
taine, de prendre un etranger dans leurs filets. La niaison de M. de 
Mesery est charmante ; le caractere franc et genereux du mari, les 
agremens de la femme, une situation delicieuse, une chere excellente, la 
compagnie de ses compatriotes, ct une liberte parfaite, font aimer ce 
sejour a tout Anglois. Que je voudrois en trouver un semblable a. 
Londres ! J'y regrette encore Holroyd, mais il nous suit de pres. 

Mr. Gibbon to Mr. Holroyd, at Lausanne. 

No. 10. page 180. 

Boromean Islands, May 16th, 1764.] — I hardly think you will like Tu- 
rin ; the court is old and dull ; and in that country every one follows 
the example of the court. The principal amusement seems to be, dri- 
ving about in your coach in the evening, and bowing to the people you 
meet. If you go while the Royal Family is there, you have the ad- 
ditional pleasure of stopping to salute them every time they pass. I had 
that advantage fifteen times one afternoon. We were presented to a lady 
who keeps a public assembly, and a very mournful one it is; the few 
women that go to it are each taken up by their cicisbeo ; and a poor 
Englishman, who can neither talk Piedmontois nor play at Faro, stands 
by himself without one of their haughty nobility doing him the honour 
of speaking to him. You must not attribute this account to our not 
having staid long enough to form connections. It is a general complaint 
of our countrymen, except of Lord * * * * who has been engaged for 
about two years in the service of a lady, whose long nose is her most 
distinguishing fine feature. The most sociable women I have met with 
are the king's daughters. I chatted for about a quarter of an hour with 
them, talked about Lausanne, and grew so very free and easy, that I 
drew my snuff-box, rapped it, took snuff twice (a crime never known 
before in the presence chamber), and continued my discourse in my 
usual attitude of my body bent forwards, and my fore finger stretched 
out.* As it might however have been difficult to keep up this ac- 

* This attitude continued to be characteristic of Mr. Gibbon, and an 
engraved representation of it was annexed to the first Edition of these 
Memoirs ; but having been considered by several persons as a very un- 

o 3 



198 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 

quaintance, I chiefly employed my time in seeing places, which fully 
repaid me in pleasure the trouble of my journey. What entertained me 
the most, was the museum and the citadel. The first is under the care 
of a M. Bartoli, who received us, without any introduction, in the 
politest manner in the world, and was of the greatest service to us, as 
I dare say he will be to you. The citadel is a stupendous work ; and 
\\ Ik 11 \ cm have seen the subterraneous part of it, you will scarcely think 
it possible such a place can ever be taken. As it is however a regular 
one, it does not pique my curiosity so much as those irregular fortifi- 
cations hewn out of the Alps, as Exiles, Fenestrelles, and the Brunette 
would have clone, could we have spared the time necessary. Our next 
stage from Turin was Milan, where we were mere spectators, as it was 
not worth while to endeavour at forming connections for so very few 
days. I think you will be surprised at the great church, but infinitely 
more so at the regiment of Baden, which is in the citadel. Such 
steadiness, such alertness in the men, and such exactness in the officers, 
as exceeded all my expectations. Next Friday I shall see the regiment 
reviewed by General Serbelloni. Perhaps I may write a particular letter 
about it. From Milan we proceed to Genoa, and thence to Florence. 
You stare — But really we find it so inconvenient to travel like mutes, 
and to lose a number of curious things for want of being able to assist 
our eyes with our tongues, that we have resumed our original plan, and 
leave Venice for next year. I think I should advise you to do the same. 

Turin, Mai 10. 1764.] — Nous avons ete presented aux Princesses, et 
au Due de Chablais. C'etoit tout ce qui nous restoit de la famille royale 
que nous avions envie de voir. II y a trois Princesses qui ont bien l'air 
de ne jamais changer d'etat. L'ainee, la Princesse de Savoye, a un petit 
visage arrondi qui peut avoir ete joli. Louise et Felicite sont un peu 
pales et maigres, mais ce sont bien les mcilleures filles du monde. Le 
Due de Chablais est grand, bien fait, et un peu noiratre. I! n'a pas un air 
aussi prevenant que le Due de Savoye ; malgre sa grande jeunesse, et la 
gene ou Ton le tient, il paroit plus libre, et plus forme. C'est le favori du 
pere, qui est aussi prodigue a son egard, qu 'il est avare pour le pauvre 
Due de Savoye, qui est oblige de prendre sur son necessaire, et sur les re- 
venus de sa femme, les sommes qu'il employe a des ceuvres de charite, 
et de generosite, surtout a l'egard des officiers. 

Turin, Mai II. 1764.] — II faut dire deux mots de Turin, et du Sou- 
verain qui y regne. Quand on voit les accroissemens lents et successifs 
de la maison de Savoye pendant huit ecus ans, il Faut convenir que sa 
grandeur est plutot l'ouvrage de la prudence que de la fortune. Elle 
se soutient, comme elle s'est forme, par la sagesse, l'ordre, et Peconomie. 

favourable likeness (which it undoubtedly is), and rather as a caricature 
of Mr. Gibbon, it is now omitted : it is however certain, that Mr. 
Gibbon did not consider it in that light : he gave it to me himself. In 
its place is substituted an Engraving of the best likeness that exists of 
Mr. Gibbon.— S. 



CHAP. VI. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 1Q9 

Avec la plus mauvaise partie des Alpes, une plaine fertile, mais assez 
resserree, et une mechante ile, qui lui rapporte, dirai-je, ou qui lui coilte 
une centaine de mille livres, le Roi de Sardaigne s'est mis au rang des 
puissances. II a des places fortes, une armee qu'il a poussee jusqu'a 
50,000 homines, et une cour nombreuse et brillante. On voit dans 
chaque departement un esprit d'activite, modere par l'economie qui 
cherche a tirer parti de ses avantages, ou a les faire naitre. Sciences, 
arts, batimens, manufactures, tout s'en ressent. II n'y a pas jusqu'a la 
navigation qui soit negligee. Le Roi pense a faire construire un beau 
port a Nice, et il a appelle d'Angleterre notre Capitaine Atkins, pour 
l'employer dans sa marine naissante, qui n'est encore composee que d'un 
vaisseau de cinquante canons, et une fregate de trente. Tous les deux 
sont des prises Espagnoles, achetees des Anglois. La fregate est la 
fameuse Hermione. 

Genes, Mai 22. 1764.] — Nous sommes arrives a Genes vers les huit 
heures et demie du matin. Notre chemin n'etoit proprement que le lit 
d'un grand torrent ; mais les coteaux nous offroient le spectacle tres 
riant d'un nombre de maisons de campagne tres propres, et ornees d'une 
belle architecture en peinture. Le coup d'ceil de Genes et de son port 
m'a paru tres beau. Apres dine nous avons fait une visite a Madame 
Mac Carthy, qui voyage avec son fils, et aux Celesia, que j'avois beau- 
coup connus en Angleterre. Je n'ai trouve que la femme qui m'a recu 
avec beaucoup d'amitie. Je dois y diner demain, et leur presenter 
Guise. Madame Celesia est tres amiable, son caractere est doux, elle 
a beaucoup d'esprit, et d'imagination. II me paroit que l'age et l'usage 
du monde Font gueri d'un tour un peu romanesque qu'elle avoit autre- 
fois. J'ai toujours eu pour elle l'estime et la compassion qu'elle meri- 
toit, et qui font toujours naitre une amitie qui tient de la tendresse. 
Elle est fille du poete Mallet ; la tyrannie de sa belle-mere l'avoit jette 
entre les bras de M. Celesia, alors Envoye de Genes en Angleterre 
qui l'a epousee, et qui la mena bientot apres en sa patrie. Elle se dit 
fort heureuse; mais elle avoue qu'elle regrette toujours 1' Angleterre. 

23.] — Nous avons dine chez Celesia. lis m'ont comble de politesses, 
et meme d'amities; car je dois prendre pour moi tout ce qu'ils ont fait 
pour Guise. J'ai beaucoup cause avec Celesia sur les affaires du pays } 
et surtout sur le soulevement de Genes en 1746, et sur les revokes de 
Corse. Voici quelques circonstances que j'en ai appris. l nt . Lorsque 
le peuple a fait cet effort, digne des Romains, il a forme un conseil 
qu'on appelloit Assemblee du Peuple, qui a continue pendant pres d'une 
annee ; qu'il y avoit dans l'Etat deux chefs independans. Le Senat 
regissoit comme a l'ordinaire toutes les affaires etrangeres, et il aban- 
donnoit a. cette assemblee tout l'interieur de la republiquc. Elle de- 
meuroit chargee du soin de la liberte', rendoit ses ordonnanc.es sous 
peine de la vie, et tenoit son bourreau assis sur les degres d'une eglise, 
et pres d'une potence pour les faire executer. Ce qu'il y a de plus 
singulier, c'est que le peuple qui avoit pris ce go lit de l'autorite supreme, 

o 4 



200 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 

se dcgouta bientot de ses proprcs chefs, laissa tombcr peu-a-peu son 
assemblee, et rendit lea renes du gouvernement a la noblesse, sans && 
pute, el sans conditions. 2*. Si les (ienois out irritc lcs Corses, ils 
out tache depuis de les ramener. II y a quatre ana qu'on fit passer dans 
l'ile une deputation illustre, munie de pleins pouvoirs d'accorder aux 
nlu lies tout ce (ju'ils demanderoient. Ce fut sans effet. Ces esprits 
independans, nes dans la revoke, et qui se souviennent a peine qu'ils 
ont e"tc sujets des Genois, n'ont ecoute que les conseils violens de Paoli, 
qui seul sait gouverner ce peuple indocile. Ce chef fameux, dont les 
mceurs sont encore un peu fcroces, egale par ses talens naturels les 
grands homines de l'antiquite. M. Celesia ne pouvoit le comparer qu'a 
Cromwell. Comme lui, l'ambition lui tient lieu des richesses, qu'il mc- 
prise, et des plaisirs dont il ignore l'usage; comme lui, Dictateur per- 
petuel d'une republique naissante, il sait la gouverner par un fan tome 
de senat, dont il est le maitre ; comme lui, il a su remplir ses troupes 
d'un fanatisme religieux qui les rend invincibles. Les cures de l'ile lui 
sont des instrumens tres utiles ; mais enfin son addresse est d'autant 
plus singuliere, que la religion n'a ete ni le motif, ni le pretexte de la 
revoke. La partie la plus saine du Senat est lasse d'une guerre qui 
ne lui a valu que des depenses immenses, et des disgraces. Elle n'y con- 
serve plus que les places maritimes, dont le territoire est souvent borne 
par le glacis des fortifications. On abandonneroit avec plaisirles Corses 
a eux-memes, si on ne craignoit pas le Roi de Sardalgne. II est tres 
sur que la Cour de Vienne auroit souhaite d'acquerir l'ile pour le 
Grand Due de Toscane, et que le marche auroit peut-etre eu lieu, sans 
la jalousie de France. 

Juin 3.] — J'ai passe la matinee entiere a la maison. Heureux mo- 
mens de repos, dont on ne sent le prix, que lorsqu'on a vecu dans le 
tourbillon. J'ai acheve l'histoire des Revolutions de Genes. Le st\le 
n'est pas mauvais, sans etre celui de Vertot; l'ordonnance est claire, 
sans etre habile. II est si peu d'abbreviateurs a qui Velleius Paterculus 
ait legue son secret, celui de prendre toujours par grandes masses. 
Mais dans une histoire politique j'aurois voulu des idees plus exactes 
de la constitution de Genes, de ses loix, et de ses mceurs. 

Nous avons dine chez Celesia qui est toujours malade. A huit 
heures du soir son beau-pere nous a presente au Doge Brignoletti. 
C'est un vieillard assez gros, qui a l'air peu spiritucl. II sait un pea de 
Francois, mais il ne nous a gueres parle qu'Italien. II nous a polimcnt 
recu, mais avec un melange de dignite qui convenoit assez avec sa 
sc'miiU'. Cette sei'enite rccoit 5000 livres par an, et en depense au 
moins 25,000 pour avoir le plaisir de demeurer dans une tres vilaine 
maison, dont il ne pent sortir sans une permission du S^nat, il'etre 
vetu de rouge depuis les pie.ls jusqu'a la tete, et d'avoir douze pages de 
(ii) ans, habilles a I'Espagnole. 

Caste! St. Giovanni, .Juin 12.] — Nous sommes partis de Genes de 
tres grand matin. Nous csperions de pousser jusqu'a Plaisance, mais 
les mauvais chemins, et les chicanes qui nous ont arretes presqu'ii 



CHAP. VI. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 201 

chaque poste, nous ont oblige de nous reposer a neuf heures du soir a 
Castel St. Giovanni, petit bourg, dans le territoire de Plaisance, a deux 
postes de la capitale, et a onze et demie de Genes. Je ne connois rien 
de plus desagreable, et de plus rude que le passage de la Bouquette, et 
meme que tout le chemin de Genes a Novi, ou commence la plaine de 
Lombardie. Le Roi de Sardaigne, par une attention sans relache a 
profiter des plus petites acquisitions, a reduit enfin les Genois a leurs 
niontagnes nues et steriles, dont ce peuple, tout industrieux qu'il est, 
peut a peine tirer le moindre avantage. En passant la Bouquette j'ai 
considere ce defile etroit, borde de precipices, et domine par des 
rochers escarpes. J'ai bien compris que sans la politique timide du 
Senat, et l'ignorance dans laquelle les paysans etoient encore du sou- 
levement de Genes, le Marechal Botta y auroit laisse ses troupes, et sa 
liberte, ou sa vie. 

Parme, Juin 14.] — Vers l'an 17-17 des ouvriers qui travailloient a 
Villora dans les montagnes du Parmesan, deterrerent une grande 
table de bronze. On continua a faire des recherches, et peu a peu l'on 
parvint a. decouvrir les ruines d'une ville qui ne peut etre que l'ancienne 
Veleia, situee dans ces quartiers, et qui doit avoir ete ecrasee sous la 
chute d'une montagne. Ces decombres se trouvoient quelquefois a fleur 
de terre, et quelquefois a une assez grande profondeur. Je ne pense 
pas qu'on ait trouve de maison complette, ni meme des vestiges 
d'aucun edifice public, quoique Veleia ait du en avoir, quand ce ne 
seroit que des temples. Mais sur la situation des murs, l'on a dresse 
une espece de Carte de Veleia, qui paroit avoir ete grande. On y a 
trouve beaucoup de statues, de lampes, et d'autres antiquites. Le Due 
y entretient toujours un Directeur des travaux, avec une quarantaine 
d'ouvriers, et a mesure qu'on a epuise un endroit, on le comble de 
terre. Voila tout ce que j'en ai pu apprendre, graces a un mauvais air 
de mystere que la cour affecte d'y mettre. Elle compte un jour, quand 
on aura tout trouve, de rendre compte au public de ses decouvertes, et 
veut etre la premiere a la rendre. On vous permet a peine de regarder 
attentivement, et jamais de rien copier. 



Note 11. page 181. 

Boromean Islands, May 16th, 176-t.] — We are at this minute in a most 
magnificent palace, in the middle of a vast lake ; ranging about suites of 
rooms without a soul to interrupt us, and secluded from the rest of the 
universe. We shall sit down in a moment to supper, attended by all the 
Count's household. This is the fine side of the medal: turn to the reverse. 
We are got here wet to the skin ; we have crawled about fine gardens 
which rain and fogs prevented our seeing; and if to-morrow does not 
hold up a little better, we shall be in some doubt whether we can say we " 
have seen these famous islands. Guise says yes, and I say no. The Count 
is not here ; we have our supper from a paltry hedge alehouse (excuse 



202 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 

the hull), and tin- servants have offered us beds in the palace, pursuant 
to their master's directions. 



Note 12. page 181. 

Journal, Florence, Juin 29, 17G4.] — On a celebre la fete de St. 
Jean, protecteur de Florence. A sept heures du matin nous nous 
sommes rendus a la place du grand Due, pour y voir la ceremonie des 
presentations, des hommages, &c. &c. Enfin Ton voyoit avancer la tour 
de St. Jean, plus elevee et plus ornee que les autres. Le saint lui- 
meme couronnoit le faite. Les niches des cotes etoient remplies de 
plusieurs autres saints, entre lesquels on distinguoit St. Sebastien, 
attache a un pilier. Tous les saints etoient des homnies qui jouoient 
assez bien leurs roles. Seulement conime la place de St. Jean parois- 
soit un peu dangereuse on avoit substitue une figure de bois au garcon 
qui le representoit auparavant. Cette tour etoit suivie par ces Che- 
vaux Barbes qui courent l'apres-midi, &c. &c. 

L'apres-midi nous avons vu la Course des Chevaux Barbes qui se 
fait dans le Corso, une grande et belle rue, mais qui dans bien des en- 
droits n'est point assez large, ni assez droite. Nous sommes alles a la 
suite de M. Mann a six heures du soir. Le Corso etoit deja rempli de 
plusieurs centaines de carrosses qui se promenoient pour etaler tout le 
faste du plus grand gala de Florence. II faut convenir que les equipages 
et les habits etoient magnifiques et de gout, et que l'ensemble formoit 
le plus beau coup-d'ceil qu'on puisse s'imaginer. Dans une demie 
heure les carrosses se sont retires, et chacun a gagne sa fenetre, son 
balcon, ou son echafaud. Nous avons suivi le ministre a la loge de la 
regence, qui etoit remplie de ce qu'il y avoit de plus distingue dans Flo- 
rence. On nous y a reeu de la maniere la plus polie. Par ce change- 
ment de decoration le spectacle devenoit moins brillant, mais plus sin- 
gulier par la foule innombrable de tous les etats qui occupoient les deux 
cotes d'une grande rue, pendant que la rue meme etoit parfaitement 
Fibre. II faut dire que tout se passa sans confusion, et qu'une poignee 
de grenadiers suffisoit pour retenirdans 1'ordre tout cepeuple immense. 
On fit passer alors les chevaux en procession pour les conduire aux 
Carceres. lis etoient quinze, pares de rubans de dhTerentes couleurs, 
et conduits par les palfreniers et la livree de leurs maitrcs. lis parois- 
soient en general beaux, mais quoiqu'on les appelle Barbes, ils peuvent 
etre de tous les pays. 11 y avoit en particulier un vicux Anglois de 
l'agc de vingt-trois, mais qui remportoit encore a I'ordinaire le prix. 
On voyoit bien aux acclamations du peuple a quel point il en c-toit 
le favori. Lorsqu'ils etoient arrives an bout, on les rangea aussi 
egalement qu'on le pouvoit ; on lacha la corde ; ils partirent — je les 
vis passer avec une vitesse que l'impetuosite naturelle au cheval, animee 
encore par I'aiguillon qu'ils portoienl m'expliquoil tres-bien. Mais 
j'etois etonue de la Constance et de la tranquillity avec laquelle ils 



CHAP. VI. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 203 

poursuivirent leur carriere aussi bien que si les plus habiles cavaliers 
les eussent montes. Nous les perdimes bientot de vue, et toute l'as- 
semblee fixoit les yeux sur le clocher de la cathedrale pour y lire le noni 
du vaincjueur dans les signaux de lumieres qui s'y repetoient et qui re- 
pondoient au numero du eheval. Pour suspendre plus long-terns 
l'impatience publique, il falloit par hasard attendre jusqu'au numero 
treize. Le Prince Neri declara au peuple (.aue la curiosite tenoit dans 
la plus tranquille silence), que le poulaindu Chevalier Alessandri avoit 
remporte la victoire, et ce silence se changea tout-a-coup aux accla- 
mations tumultueuses de trente mille spectateurs. Avant de livrer 
le prix au vainqueur, on devoit le benir avec beaucoup de ceremonie a 
l'eglise de St. Jean. Autant que j'ai pu juger, les chevaux ont fourni 
leur carriere de plus de deux milles dans cinq minutes. Le grand 
diable est arrive le second, et presqu'au meme instant que le premier. 

A ne considerer que la vitesse des chevaux, nos courses l'emportent 
infiniment sur celle-ci. Cependant l'antiquite de l'institution, l'ardeur 
d'un peuple entier, qui y assiste, l'intervention du prince, et meme de 
la religion, lui donnent un air bien plus majestueux. On voit que les 
Florentins cherissent cet usage comme le seul vestige de leur liberte 
ancienne; c'est une fureur momentanee qui s'empare de tous les 
esprits, et depuis les jeux des anciens, c'est peut-etre le seul spectacle 
des plaisirs de tout un etat reuni pour s'amuser par les soins, et sous 
les yeux de ses magistrats. 



Note 13. page 181. 

Juillet 16 me .] — Nous avons fait notre VIII me visite a la Galeiie, 
&c. &c. &c. Je vais parler de ses meubles qui ne consistent qu'en 
statues, et en bustes antiques, places alternativement, de maniere qu'il 
se trouve toujours une statue et deux bustes. Ces derniers sont peut- 
etre le tresor le plus precieux de la galerie, puisqu'ils contiennent la 
suite complette de tous les empereurs depuis Auguste et Jules Cesar 
jusqu'a Caracalle, sans compter plusieurs des successeurs de celui-ci ; 
beaucoup d'imperatrices, et des bustes qu'on a assignes a des philo- 
sophes et des poetes Grecs, sur la foi des descriptions vagues et ob- 
scures que les anciens nous ont laisse de leurs personnes. C'est un 
plaisir bien vif que de suivre les progres, et la decadence des arts, et 
de parcourir cette suite des portraits originaux des maitres du monde. 
On y voit bien plus distinctement leurs traits que sur leurs medailles, 
dont le champ est trop petit. Je conviens que ce n'est qu'a I'aide des 
medailles que nous les reconnoissions ici. C'est pourquoi j'aurois 
voulu qu'on eiit pratique dans le piedestal de chaque buste, un petit 
tiroir rempli de ces medailles. Les curieux auroient trouve beaucoup 
d'agrement a les comparer. A tout ce merite accessoire il y a beau- 
coup de ces bustes qui ajoutent encore celui du travail. Sans vouloir 
les passer tous en revue comme l'a fait Cochin, je marquerai ceux qui 



204 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 

m'ont arret! par quelque endroit. I. Jules Cesar. II est singolier. Tous 
Bes traits sont contracted, et I'air du visage porte les caracteres les 
plus frappans de la vieillesse et de ia caducite. On comprend a peine 

que ce soit lc buste il'un honiine mort a Page cinquante-six ana, Je 
o'ai pas pu remarquer sa tete chauve, quoique le front soit un peu 
degarni des cheveux, non plus que la couronne dc laurier, sous laquclle 
cc heros cachoit un defaut dont il avoit la foiblesse dc rougir. 11 i>t 
vrai que la plupart des tetes d'hommes de cette suite, sont sans 
aucun ornement. 2. Ciceron. Un long cou, un visage un peu maigre, 
beaucoup de rides, un teint un peu jaunatre, qui vient de la couleur 
du niarbre, tout annonce ici la force et les travaux de l'esprit plutot 
que du corps. II est d'une verite et d'une finesse extraordinaire. 
Le sculpteur a marque un pois sur la joue gauche; comme il est 
joliment fait, il n'est qu'un agrement qui sert d'ailleurs a le dis- 
tinguer : mais quoique le nom fut hereditaire, la marque (Cicer) 
ne l'etoit pas. 3. Agrippa. C'est bien le contraste de Ciceron, 
quoiqu'il soit peut-etre aussi beau dans son genre. 11 est d'une ma- 
niere grande et hardie. Un visage large et quarre, des traits saOlans 
et marques ; des yeux grands, mais excessivement enfonces dans la 
tete ; des cheveux qui couvrent la moitie du front ; tout y reveille 
l'idee de la force et de la vigueur, et presente un ensemble plutot 
terrible qu'agreable. On l'a place parmi les empereurs que cet homme 
nouveau a mis sur le trone du monde. 4. Sappho. La sculpture etoit 
trop imparfaite au 6 me siecle avant Jesus Christ pour nous pennettre 
de regarder la tete de cette femme celebre comme une originale. Je le 
croirois encore moins, puisque Sappho, qui brilloit plutot par l'esprit 
que par la beaute, n'avoit certainement pas ce beau visage ovale, 
quoiqu'un peu arrondi par l'embonpoint que le sculpteur lui a donne 
ici. Ce morceau est d'une grande beaute. 5. Caligula. Ce buste, 
qui est d'une execution libre et hardie, acquiert un nouveau prix par 
la ressemblance parfaite et exacte qu'il a avec les medailles de ce tyran. 
Pour un homme mort dans sa trentieme annee, ses traits sont ex- 
tremement formes. 6. Neron. II y a beaucoup d'cxpression, mais 
d'une expression un peu confuse. Dois-je le dire, et le din.' ici ? 
Neron ne m'a jamais revolte autant que Tibere, Caligula, ou Domitien. 
II avoit beaucoup de vices, mais il n' etoit pas sans vertus. Jevois dans 
son histoire peu de traits d'une mechancete etudiee. II etoit cruel, 
mais il l'etoit plutot par crainte que par Rout. 7. Seneque. Morceau 
tres estime et digne de I'etre. Sa peau decharnee paroit necouvrir que 
des os et des muscles, qui sont rendues avec une grande veiite : ses 
veines sont des tuyaux qui semblent vuides ih' sang. Tons les ca- 
racteres du bustt' annoncent un vieillard, et peut-etre un vieillard 
expirant. 8. Galba. Buste forte beau. !). Otho. II n'a d'autre nuiite 
que celui de sa rarcte. Je suis surpris qu'il s'en trouve. Mille accidens 
peuvent faire enterrer et conserverdes monnoies ; mais comment s'est- 
il iioiive quelqu'un qui ait voulu risquer de garder le buste odieux de ce 



CHAP. VI. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 205 

fantome d'empereur ? A la verite le regne de son ennemi Vitellius passa 
presqu' aussi vite. 10. Vitellius. La tete de ce gourmand et bete 
stupide est chargee de cliair. II est singulier que les monumens de cet 
empereur aussi ne soient pas plus rares. Je pense que Vespasien le 
meprisa trop pour les detruire. 11. Vespasien. Si la nature doit 
etre le modele des sculpteurs cette tete est d'une beaute merveilleuse. 
Eien n'est plus naturelle que les contours, rien n'est plus gracieux que 
l'air, a la fois gai, tranquille et nmjestueux. C'est vraiment un visage 
humain, et quoiqu'il soit plutot laid que beau, il est bon et interessant. 
Je suis persuade que la ressemblance etoit frappante. 12. Berenice- 
La coeffure de cette reine est en boucles frisees tres-artistement, mais 
disposees avec une apparence de negligence. Si elle n'etoit pas plus 
belle qu'elle n'est representee ici, on a peine a comprendre la passion 
de Titus. 13. Domitia. La maniere dont ses cheveux sont ramasses 
sur le front en beaucoup de petites boucles detachees, leur donne assez, 
selon Cochin, Pair d'une eponge. Nous nous sommes arretes aux 
Douze Cesars, division qui est occasioned par Suetone plutot que par 
la raison. Les six Cesars auroient ete plus naturels. 

17 me ."| — Nous avons fait notre IX me . visite a la Galerie. Voici la 
suite des bustes que nous avons reprise. 14. Trajan. Buste facile et 
naturel. Je vois sur la physionomie un sourire moqueur assez singulier. 
La tete est extremement tournee de cote : mais en general je ne me 
rappelle pas un seul buste dont la tete soit laissee dans son attitude 
reguliere. Les sculpteurs auront cru avec raison qu'un petit ecart de 
la ligne droite tracee par la nature donnoit plus de grace et d'ame a 
leurs figures. 15. Hadrien. Ce buste est tres beau. On voit, selon 
le temoignage des historiens, que ce prince a commence le premier a 
laisser croitre sa barbe. II la coupoit cependant de terns en terns, et ne 
se piquoit point d' avoir cette longue barbe pendante, et bien nourrie, 
qui faisoit Porgueil des philosophes de ce siecle. A Pegard des 
cheveux, les premiers empereurs les avoient portes courts, frises avec 
fort peu de soin, et tombant sur le front. Sur le buste d'Othon on 
distingue tres bien la perruque frisee en grosses boucles par devant dont 
ce prince fut Pinventeur. Tout ceci ne regarde que les empereurs. 
Seneque, qui affichoit la philosoplne, a beaucoup de cheveux, et de 
barbe. 16. Antinous. Le buste de ce mignon d'Hadrien est tres beau. 
Le visage est tres bien forme, d'un melange de force et de douceur. 
Les epaules, la poitrine, et les mammelles, sont traitees avec beaucoup 
de mollesse. Le plus bel embonpoint ne detruit point ici les graces du 
contour. Ce buste, plus grand que nature, est entierement antique, 
circonstance rare et presqu' unique. Tout au plus a-t-on la tete antique, 
souvent il en a fallu restaurer une partie, et le nez a presque toujours 
ete casse. C'est a Antinous seulement que les yeux des bustes com- 
mencent a avoir des prunelles; encore les siens sont-ils a peine per- 
ceptibles. On ne sauroit concevoir jusqu'a quel point la prunelle rend 
la vie et l'expression a tout, et anime tous les traits. II etoit juste 



206 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 

qu'un pareil secours appuviit la BCulpture quand elle touchoit au 
moment de sa decadence. IT. Antonm le Debonnmre. W est pit-in de 

vt-ritt- et d' expression, surtout la partie superieure du visage, le front, 
el lea yeuz. Antonin ajouta a la barbe de petites moustaches frisecs. 
I 1 -. .1/. Aurele, II y en a trois. Celui qui le represente jeune, est le 
meilleur. On peut remarquer dans toute cctte famine lameme maniere 
tie sculpture; c'est-a-dire plus tie beautes de detail, avec un ensemble 
moins frappant. 19. Anniut Vents. C'est un jeune enfant, qui est 
vraiment un chef-d'oeuvre. Un petit visage rond, ou brillent toutes les 
graces de la joie, et de l'innocence. On ne peut se lasser de le regarder. 
20. Un baste beaucoup plus grand tpie la nature. C'est un visage assez 
jeune, quoique tres forme; fort beau, mais qui leve les yeuz au ciel 
avec la plus belle et la plus forte expression, de la douleur et tie l'in- 
dignation. On dit que c'est Alexandre pret a expirer. Si la conjecture 
est un peu averee on pourroit se flatter de posseder un morceau unique 
de la main de Lysippe, le seul sculpteur a qui Alexandre permettoit 
de le tailler en marbre. II n'y a rien dans ce chef-d'oeuvre de noblesse, 
de simplicite, et d'expression, qui demente le siecle d' Alexandre, ou 
l'idee qu'on peut se former de Lysippe. 21. Periinax. II me paroit 
beau. 22. Clodius Albinus. II est d'albatre; a ce merite, et celui d'un 
bon travail, il ajoute celui de la plus grande rarete. Quand on se 
rappelle que son ombre de royaute, a ete suivi d'un regne de vingt ans 
d'un enemi implacable et cruel, on concoit bien les raisons de cette 
rarete. 23. Septimc Severe. II est bon, mais j'aime mieux la maniere 
que 1' execution de ce buste. 24. Gcta. Celui qui le represente enfant, 
est fort joli, mais il y paroit plus forme que 1'Annius Verus. 25. 
Caracalle. Bon, mais il me paroit un peu sec. C'est ici que la 
sculpture Romaine est tombee dans le meme terns que l'architecture, 
avec qui elle a peut-etre encore plus de rapports qu'avec la peinturc. 
Je pense que ces derniers morceaux sont des artistes qui restoient 
encore du siecle d'or des Antonins, et qui ne formerent point d'eleves 
dans le siecle de fer des Severes, sous qui le gouvernement devint 
vraiment militaire, et despotique. Les bustes qui sont les moins 
raauvais dans la suite, sont, 26. G allien, et 27. Eliogabale. Le total 
des bustes des corridors est de quatre vingt douze. 

Florence, Juillet 29.] — Toute la nation tlina chez M. Mann. Apres 
diner nous allames voir une course tie chevaux. Le Gran Diavolo a 
remporte le prix. C'est un vieux Anglois qui a vingt deux a vingt trois 
ans, a qui on n'est point encore en etat tie dire solve senescentem equina. 
Ses victoires, qui sont presqu'aussi frequentes que ses combats, out 
engage un prince a offrir dernicrement 1000 sequins a son maitre le 
Chevalier Alessandri, qui les a refuses. 

31.] — Lord Palmerstonet L.ont dineavec nous. C"cst un singulier 
contraste que ces deux jeunes gens. L'un, pose, tranquille, un peu 
froid, possede des qualit£s du coeur, et tie l'esprit, qui le font estimer 
partout, et Ton voit qu'il a mis 1'attention la plus serieuse a lescultivet. 



CHAP. VI. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 207 

L. est en tout d'une impetuosite, qui ne connoit point de bornes ; d'une 
vanite qui lui fait rechercher sans l'obtenir l'applaudissement de ceux 
pour qui son orgueil ne lui inspire que du mepris ; et d'une ambition 
folle qui ne sert qu'a le rendre ridicule, sans etre accompagnee de cette 
Constance qui peut seule la faire reussirj un air de philosophie sans 
beau coup de logique, et une affectation de savoir, soutenue par une 
lecture vague et superficielle. Voila cette homme extraordinaire qui 
s'attire partout la haine, ou la pitie. Je lui trouve cependant un fonds 
de genie naturel tres au-dessus de son rival. Mais ici il sera tout aussi 
difficile de retrancher qu'a ajouter. Je vois qu'il me goute beaucoup ; 
peu-a-peu sans le savoir nous nous sommes trouves extremement lies. 
Avec lui il n'y a point de milieu entre une declaration de guerre, et 
Palliance la plus intime. 



Note 14. page 182. 

Journal, Florence, Aout 9 me . 1764.] — Cocchi a dine avec nous. 
Nous avons beaucoup cause, mais je ne lui trouve pas le genie qu'on lui 
attribue, c'est peut-etre parceque les notres ne sont pas analogues. 
J'entrevois de l'extravagance dans ces idees, de l'affectation dans ses 
manieres. II se plaint a, tout moment de sa pauvrete. II connoit peu 
la veritable dignite d'un homme de lettres. S'il a beaucoup de science, 
elle est bornee a la physique. 11 m'a demande si Lord Spenser ne 
pouvoit pas faire des eveques, et m'a fait un conte de Lord Lyttelton 
(dont il ne peut souffrir le fils) ou il etoit question des Parlemens de 
Campagne. Le soir nous avons suivi le Chevalier Mann a trois 
assemblies chez la Comtesse de Gallo, chez la Marquise Gerini, et chez 
le Due Strozzi. Cette succession rapide peut seule m'empecher de 
m'ennuyer. Je ne parle point la langue du pays. J'ignore leurs jeux. 
Les femmes sont occupees de leurs Cicisbees, et les hommes paroissent 
d'une indifference extreme. 

Florence, Aoiit 16.] — J'avois oublie de marquer vers le milieu de 
Juillet, que le Cardinal Stuart a passe a Florence pour aller a, Pise. 
C'est dans le Palais Corsini qu'il a loge. Nous l'avons vu un instant 
a, la Galerie, ou il ne s'est anete qu'une demie-heure. C'est un homme 
d'une petite mine, et qui a l'air beaucoup plus vieux qu'il ne Test en 
effet. On le dit bon homme, mais excessivement bigot, et sous le 
gouvernement des Jesuites. Un certain Abbe Nicolini, fameux bel 
esprit, et tyran de la Crusca et bavard impitoyable, lui a fait son cour, 
et l'a accompagne partout avec autant de soin qu'il avoit suivi le Due 
de York. II est fallu de fort peu que ces deux Sosies ne se soient 
rencontres aux Bains de Pise. 

17.] — Les deux MM. Darner, fils de Lord Milton, et petits-fils du 
Due de Dorset, sont arrives, lis sont tous les deux fort jeunes, mais 
sans gouverneur. C'est une mode qui commence a passer. Le gou- 
verneur est toujours a charge, et rarement utile ; et quant a la de- 



208 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 

pense il lui scroit difficile d'epargner a son eleve lc quart dc ses propres 
bonoraires. 

18.] — Nous sommes alios avee l'Abbe Pilori pour voir la Biblio- 
theque Magliabecchiana, tresor amasse par ce fameux bibliothecaire des 
grands Dues, qu'ils ont depuis rendu publique. Elle consiste en 40 a 
o() mille volumes, rassembles dans un assez beau vase. 11 est singulier 
qu'un particulier d'une fortune des plus mediocres ait pu rassembler 
un tresor dignc des plus grands princes. Mais que ne pouvoit une 
vie tres longue dont tons les momens n'avoient qu'un objet unique? 
Magliabecchi etoit, pour parler ainsi, la Memoire personalise : un esprit 
qui ne pouvoit jamais travailler de lui-meme, mais qui auroit ete un 
Indice parlant des plus utiles a un homme de genie, occupe de quelque 
branche de litterature. J'ai vu dans cette bibliotheque une preuve 
combien la vie entiere de cet homme etoit consacree aux sciences. 
C'est son commerce cpistolaire qui remplit centaines de volumes. On 
v lit les noms les plus celebres de l'Europe, et le nombre entier des 
correspondans monte a plus de trois mille deux cens. Je sens qu'ils 
n'ont pas ete contemporains, mais il y a encore de quoi remplir tous 
les instans d'une vie ordinaire. Les Reponses de Magliabecchi sont 
en tres petit nombre. On comprend facilement qu'il n'e*n pouvoit pas 
conserver beaucoup de copies ; mais on ne soutient point une telle 
correspondance sans en remplir exactement les devoirs. Peut-etre 
qu'un habile homme pourroit faire dans ce repertoire immense un 
choix judicieux qui enricheroit l'histoire litteraire du siecle passe. La 
bibliotheque est plutot utile que curieuse. Elle se distingue bien plus 
par les livres imprimes, que par les MSS. qui sont presque tous a 
St. Laurent. II y a cependant un beau Recueil des Mathematiciens 
Grecs, dont il y en a plusieurs qui n'ont jamais ete publics ; une col- 
lection nombreuse des premieres editions du quinzieme siecle, et un 
livre imprime a Venise dans le seizieme, qui est tres precieux par sa 
rarete et par son sujet. C'est la Collection des Lois du Rovaumo 
dc Jerusalem, qui sont passees dans le Royaume de Chypre sous la 
Maison de Lusignan, et qui paroissent s'y etre conservees sous le 
gouvemement des Venetiens. Ce livre est en Italien, et ne peut etre 
par consequent qu'unc traduction. J'y ai vu la confirmation d'une 
circonstance racontee par tous les historiens, que Godefroi ile Bouillon 
n'avoit jamais voulu se faire eouronner pour ne pas porter une couronne 
d'or, dans les lieux meme ou son Dieu en avoit porte une d'tpincs. 
Ce livre a ete ignore de tous les savans. On croit meme que Mu- 
ratori ne le connoissoit pas. II pourroit servir pour l'histoire des 
Croisades. De la nous sommes alles a I'eglise de Santa Croce. L'ar- 
chitecture n'a ricn de considerable pour l'architecture : mais ce n'a pas 
ete sans un respect secret que j'ai considere les tombeaux de Galilee, 
et de Michel Ange, du restaurateur des arts, et de celui de la philo- 
sophic : genies vraiment puissans et originaux. lis ont illustre leur 
patrie mieux que les conquerans et les politiques. Les Tartares ont 



CHAP. VI. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 209 

eu un Jenghiz Khan, et les Goths un Alaric, mais nous detournons nos 
yeux des deserts ensanglantes de la Scythie pour les fixer avec plaisir 
sur Athenes et sur Florence. 

Florence, Aoilt 29, 1764. — Nous sommes alles en corps avec le 
Chevalier Mann, pour faire visite au Marechal Botta, qui est arrive 
aujourd'hui de Vienne, en dix jours. C'est une course un peu forte 
pour un vieillard qui a soixante dix-sept ans, mais il paroit encore 
vert et vigoureux. II nous a recu poliment, mais il n'a parle qu'au 
chevalier. C'est un homme singulier, qui s'est eleve aux plus grands 
emplois a force de bevues. II a eu des ambassades brillantes, et des 
commandemens d'armees. Aujourd'hui il est feld-marechal, colonel d'un 
regiment d'infanterie, chef de la regence de Toscane, et vicaire-general 
de l'empire en Italic On se plaint beaucoup de sa hauteur et de 
son avarice. II se refuse aux depenses les plus necessaires pour en- 
voyer beaucoup d'argent a Vienne, et dans sept ou huit ans, qu'il a 
gouverne la Toscane, il n'a rien fait pour le bien du pays. On compare 
cette conduite a celle de son predecesseur le Comte de Richecourt, 
qui a dignement represente son prince ; qui a conclu un concordat 
tres-avantageux avec la cour de Rome, supprime l'inquisition, borne le 
nombre et la richessedes couvens par une loi de mortmain, qui a fait de 
grand chemin a Bologne, &c. &c. 

Florence, Septembre 1, 1764. — Le Chevalier Mann, comme a 
l'ordinaire. J'y ai vu un Baron Prussien, dont je ne sais pas le nom. 
II y a quatre ou cinque ans qu'il voyage. II a ete en Angleterre, et 
parle tres bon Anglois. II me paroit joli garcon, et ne manque point 
de sens. J'ai cause avec lui sur son roi. II est permis d'etre curieux 
sur le compte d'un pared homme. Je vois qu'il ['admire plus qu'il ne 
l'aime. A-t-il tort ? Un de ses oncles s'est fait hacher en pieces pour 
ne pas essuyer les reproches durs et inevitables de son maitre de ce 
qu'il n'avoit pas fait l'impossible. Le Roi de Prusse se pique de se 
connoitre en physionomie, science qu'il estime, et qui doit plaire aux 
rois, parcequ'il semble leur donner les connoissances intentives d'un 
Etre superieur. Le roi meprise tout homme qui paroit intimide en sa 
presence. Mais ne distingueroit-il point entre le courtisan qui tremble 
devant un roi, et l'homme qui sent la superiorite d'un grand homme ? 

Pise, Septembre 24, 1764. — J'ai trouve a Pise mon parent le com- 
mandant Acton, avec son neveu, qui nous ont comble de politesses. Je 
plains beaucoup ce pauvre vieillard. A l'age de soixante ans il se 
trouve abandonne de tous les Anglois pour avoir change de religion ; 
accable d'infirmite, sans esperance de revoir son pays, il se fixe parmi 
un peuple dont il n'a jamais pu apprendre la langue. Dans l'univers 
entier il ne lui reste que son neveu, dont la reputation a beaucoup 
souffert du changement de son oncle, qu'on attribue a son manege. 



210 MEMOIRS OF 



No. 15. page 184. 

" Perhaps," observes M. Suard, " it will not be difficult to trace, in 
. the impressions from which the conception of the work arose, one of 
the causes of that war which Gibbon seems to have declared against 
Christianity ; the- design of which neither appears conformable to his 
character, little disposed to party-spirit — nor to that moderation of 
thought and sentiment which led him in all things, particular as well 
as general, to view the advantages as well as the evil consequences. 
But, struck with a first impression, Gibbon, in writing the history of 
the fall of the empire, saw in Christianity only an institution which 
had placed vespers, barefooted fryars, and processions, in the room of 
the magnificent ceremonies of the worship of Jupiter, and the triumphs 
of the Capitol." — M. 



MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 211 



CHAPTER VII. 

Mr. Gibbon's Reflections upon his Situation. — Some Account 
of his Friend M. Deyverdun. — He writes, and commu- 
nicates to his Friends, an Historical Essay upon the 
Liberty of the Siciss. — Their unfavourable Judgment. — 
Mr. Hume's Opinion. — Mr. Gibbon and M. Deyverdun 
engage in a Periodical Work, intended as a Continuation 
of Dr. Mattfs Journal Brittannique ; entitled, Memoires 
Litteraires de la Grande Bretagne. — Account of the 
Work. — Mr. Gibbon publishes his Observations on the 
Vlth AEneid of Virgil, in opposition to Bishop Warburton's 
Hypothesis. — Mr. Heyne's and Mr. Haylefs Opinions of 
that Essay. — Mr. Gibbon determines to write the History 
of the Decline and Fall. — His preparatory Studies. — 
Reflexions on his domestic Circumstances; his Father's 
Death and Character. 

On the 25th of June 1765, I arrived at my father's 
house ; and the five years and a half between my 
travels and my father's death (1770) are the portion 
of my life which I passed with the least enjoy- 
ment, and which I remember with the least satis- 
faction. Every spring I attended the monthly 
meeting and exercise of the militia at South- 
ampton ; and by the resignation of my father, and 
the death of Sir Thomas Worsley, I was succes- 
sively promoted to the rank of major and lieutenant- 
colonel commandant ; but I was each year more 
disgusted with the inn, the wine, the company, 
and the tiresome repetition of annual attendance 



212 MEMOIRS OF ( II A r. VII. 

and daily exercise. At home, the economy of the 
family and farm still maintained the same creditable 
appearance. My connection with Mrs. Gibbon 
was mellowed into a warm and solid attachment ; 
my growing years abolished the distance that 
might yet remain between a parent and a son, and 
my behaviour satisfied my father, who was proud 
of the success, however imperfect in his own life- 
time, of my literary talents. Our solitude was 
soon and often enlivened by the visit of the friend 
of my youth, M. Deyverdun, whose absence 
from Lausanne I had sincerely lamented. About 
three years after my first departure, he had emi- 
grated from his native lake to the banks of the 
Oder in Germany. The res angusta domi, the 
waste of a decent patrimony by an improvident 
father, obliged him, like many of his countrymen, 
to confide in his own industry ; and he was en- 
trusted with the education of a young prince, the 
grandson of the Margrave of Schavedt, of the 
Royal Family of Prussia. Our friendship was 
never cooled, our correspondence was sometimes 
interrupted ; but I rather wished than hoped to 
obtain M. Deyverdun for the companion of my 
Italian tour. An unhappy, though honourable 
passion drove him from his German court ; and 
the attractions of hope and curiosity were fortified 
by the expectation of my speedy return to England. 
During four successive summers he passed several 
weeks or months at Beriton, and our free conver- 
sations, on every topic that could interest the heart 
or understanding, would have reconciled me to a 
desert or a prison. In the winter months of 



CHAP. Vir. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 213 

London my sphere of knowledge and action was 
somewhat enlarged, by the many new acquaintance 
which I had contracted in the militia and abroad ; 
and I must regret, as more than an acquaintance, 
Mr. Godfrey Clarke of Derbyshire, an amiable 
and worthy young man, who was snatched away 
by an untimely death. A weekly convivial meeting 
was established by myself and other travellers, 
under the name of the Roman Club. 1 

The renewal, or perhaps the improvement, of 
my English life was embittered by the alteration 
of my own feelings. At the age of twenty-one I 
was, in my proper station of a youth, delivered 
from the yoke of education, and delighted with 
the comparative state of liberty and affluence. My 
filial obedience was natural and easy ; and in the 
gay prospect of futurity, my ambition did not extend 
beyond the enjoyment of my books, my leisure, and 
my patrimonial estate, undisturbed by the cares of 
a family and the duties of a profession. But in the 
militia I was armed with power ; in my travels, I 
was exempt from control ; and as I approached, 
as I gradually passed my thirtieth year, I began to 
feel the desire of being master in my own house. 
The most gentle authority will sometimes frown 
without reason, the most cheerful submission will 
sometimes murmur without cause ; and such is the 
law of our imperfect nature, that we must either 

1 The members were Lord Mountstuart (now Marquis of Bute), 
Colonel Edmonstone, Wm. Wecklal, Rev. Mr. Palgrave, Earl of Berkley, 
Godfrey Clarke (Member for Derbyshire), Holroyd (Lord Sheffield), 
Major Ridley, Thomas Charles Bigge, Sir William Guise, Sir John 
Aubrey, the late Earl of Abingdon, Hon. Peregrine Bertie, Rev. Mr. 
Cleaver, Hon. John Darner, Hon. George Darner (late Earl of Dor- 
chester), Sir Thomas Gascoygne, Sir John Hort, E. Gibbon. 

p 3 



214 MEMOIRS 01 ( HAP. VII. 

command or obey ; that our personal Liberty is sup- 
ported by the obsequiousness of our own dependants. 
While so many of my acquaintance were married or 
in parliament, or advancing with a rapid step in the 
various roads of honour and fortune, I stood alone, 
immovable and insignificant ; for after the monthly 
meeting of 1770, I had even withdrawn myself 
from the militia, by the resignation of an empty 
and barren commission. My temper is not sus- 
ceptible of envy, and the view of successful merit 
has always excited my warmest applause. The 
miseries of a vacant life were never known to a 
man whose hours were insufficient for the inex- 
haustible pleasures of study. But I lamented that 
at the proper age I had not embraced the lucrative 
pursuits of the law or of trade, the chances of civil 
office or India adventure, or even the fat slumbers 
of the church ; and my repentance became more 
lively as the loss of time w r as more irretrievable. 
Experience showed me the use of grafting my 
private consequence on the importance of a great 
professional body ; the benefits of those firm con- 
nections which are cemented by hope and interest, 
by gratitude and emulation, by the mutual exchange 
of services and favours. From the emoluments of 
a profession I might have derived an ample fortune, 
or a competent income, instead of being stinted to 
the same narrow allowance, to be increased only by 
an event which I sincerely deprecated. The progress 
and the knowledge of our domestic disorders ag- 
gravated my anxiety, and I began to apprehend that 
I might be left in my old age without the fruits 
either of industry or inheritance. 



CHAP. VII. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 215 

In the first summer after my return, whilst I 
enjoyed at Beriton the society of my friend Dey- 
verdun, our daily conversations expatiated over 
the field of ancient and modern literature ; and we 
freely discussed my studies, my first Essay, and 
my future projects. The Decline and Fall of Rome 
I still contemplated at an awful distance : but the 
two historical designs which had balanced my choice 
were submitted to his taste; and in the parallel 
between the Revolutions of Florence and Swit- 
zerland, our common partiality for a country which 
was his by birth, and mine by adoption, inclined 
the scale in favour of the latter. According to the 
plan, which was soon conceived and digested, I em- 
braced a period of two hundred years, from the 
association of the three peasants of the Alps to the 
plenitude and prosperity of the Helvetic body in 
the sixteenth century. I should have described the 
deliverance and victory of the Swiss, who have 
never shed the blood of their tyrants but in a field 
of battle ; the laws and manners of the confederate 
states ; the splendid trophies of the Austrian, Bur- 
gundian, and Italian wars ; and the wisdom of a 
nation, who, after some sallies of martial adventure, 
has been content to guard the blessings of peace with 
the sword of freedom. 

Manus hsec inimica tyrannis 

Ense petit placidam sub libertate quietem. 

My judgment, as well as my enthusiasm, was sa- 
tisfied with the glorious theme ; and the assistance 
of Deyverdun seemed to remove an insuperable 
obstacle. The French or Latin memorials, of which 
p 4 



QlG MEMOIRS of chap. vir. 

I was not ignorant, arc inconsiderable in number 
and weight ; but in the perfect acquaintance of my 
friend with the German language, I found the key 
of a more valuable collection. The most necessary 
books were procured ; he translated, for my use, 
the folio volume of Schilling, a copious and con- 
temporary relation of the war of Burgundy ; we 
read and marked the most interesting parts of the 
great chronicle of Tschudi ; and by his labour, or 
that of an inferior assistant, large extracts were 
made from the History of Lauffer and the Dic- 
tionary of Lew ; yet such was the distance and 
delay, that two years elapsed in these preparatory 
steps ; and it was late in the third summer (I7G7 ) 
before I entered, with these slender materials, on 
the more agreeable task of composition. A specimen 
of my History, the first book, was read the following 
winter in a literary society of foreigners in London ; 
and as the author was unknown, I listened, with- 
out observation, to the free strictures, and unfa- 
vourable sentence, of my judges. (1) The momen- 
tary sensation was painful ; but their condemnation 
was ratified by my cooler thoughts. I delivered my 
imperfect sheets to the flames 2 , and for ever re- 
nounced a design in which some expense, much 
labour, and more time, had been so vainly con- 
sumed. I cannot regret the loss of a slight and 

2 He neglected to burn them. He left at Sheffield-Place the intro- 
duction, or first book, in forty-three pages folio, written in a very small 
hand, besides a considerable number of notes. Mr. Hume's opinion, 
expressed in the letter in the last note, perhaps may justify the pub- 
lication of it. — S. * 



* Lord Sheffield, however, by this, as well as the other remaining 

his will, seems to have condemned works of Gibbon, to oblivion. — M. 



CHAP. VII. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS, 217 

superficial essay ; for such the work must have 
been in the hands of a stranger, uninformed by the 
scholars and statesmen, and remote from the li- 
braries and archives of the Swiss republics. My 
ancient habits, and the presence of Deyverdun, en- 
couraged me to write in French for the continent 
of Europe ; but I was conscious myself that my 
style, above prose and below poetry, degenerated 
into a verbose and turgid declamation. Perhaps I 
may impute the failure to the injudicious choice of 
a foreign language. Perhaps I may suspect that the 
language itself is ill adapted to sustain the vigour 
and dignity of an important narrative. But if 
France, so rich in literary merit, had produced a 
great original historian, his genius would have 
formed and fixed the idiom to the proper tone, the 
peculiar mode of historical eloquence. 

It was in search of some liberal and lucrative 
employment that my friend Deyverdun had visited 
England. His remittances from home were scanty 
and precarious. My purse was always open, but 
it was often empty ; and I bitterly felt the want of 
riches and power, which might have enabled me to 
correct the errors of his fortune. His wishes and 
qualifications solicited the station of the travelling 
governor of some wealthy pupil; but every vacancy 
provoked so many eager candidates, that for a long 
time I struggled without success ; nor was it till 
after much application that I could even place him 
as a clerk in the office of the secretary of state. 
In a residence of several years he never acquired 
the just pronunciation and familiar use of the 
English tongue, but he read our most difficult 



21S WI.M01RS OF CHAP. VII. 

authors with ease and taste : his critical knowledge 
of our language and poetry was Mich as few 
foreigners have possessed ; and few of our country, 
men could enjoy the theatre of Shakspeare and 
Garrick with more exquisite feeling and discern- 
ment. The consciousness of his own strength, and 
the assurance of my aid, emboldened him to imitate 
the example of Dr. Maty, whose Journal Brit- 
tannique was esteemed and regretted ; and to im- 
prove his model, by uniting with the transactions 
of literature a philosophic view of the arts and 
manners of the British nation. Our Journal for 
the year 17 67, under the title of Memoires Litte- 
raires de la Grande Bretagne, was soon finished 
and sent to the press. For the first article, Lord 
Littelton's History of Henry II., I must own my- 
self responsible ; but the public has ratified my judg- 
ment of that voluminous work, in which sense and 
learning are not illuminated by a ray of genius. (2) 
The next specimen was the choice of my friend, 
The Bath Guide, alight and whimsical performance, 
of local, and even verbal, pleasantry. I started at 
the attempt : he smiled at my fears : his courage 
was justified by success j and a master of both 
languages will applaud the curious felicity with 
which he has transfused into French prose the 
spirit, and even the humour, of the English verse. 
It is not my wish to deny how deeply I was inter- 
ested in these Memoirs, of which I need not surely 
be ashamed ; but at the distance of more than 
twenty years, it would be impossible for me to 
ascertain the respective shares of the two associates. 
A long and intimate communication of ideas had 



CHAP. VII. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 219 

cast our sentiments and style in the same mould. 
In our social labours we composed and corrected 
by turns ; and the praise which I might honestly 
bestow, would fall perhaps on some article or 
passage most properly my own. A second volume 
(for the year 1768) was published of these Memoirs. 
I will presume to say, that their merit was superior 
to their reputation; but it is not less true, that they 
were productive of more reputation than emolu- 
ment. They introduced my friend to the pro- 
tection, and myself to the acquaintance, of the 
Earl of Chesterfield, whose age and infirmities 
secluded him from the world ; and of Mr. David 
Hume, who was under-secretary to the office in 
which Deyverdun was more humbly employed. 
The former accepted a dedication (April 12th, 
1769), and reserved the author for the future 
education of his successor : the latter enriched the 
Journal with a reply to Mr. Walpole's Historical 
Doubts, which he afterwards shaped into the form 
of a note. The materials of the third volume 
were almost completed, when I recommended 
Deyverdun as governor to Sir Richard Worsley, a 
youth, the son of my old lieutenant-colonel, who 
was lately deceased. They set forwards on their 
travels ; nor did they return to England till some 
time after my father's death. 

My next publication was an accidental sally of 
love and resentment; of my reverence for modest 
genius, and my aversion for insolent pedantry. 
The sixth book of the iEneid is the most pleasing 
and perfect composition of Latin poetry. The 
descent of iEneas and the Sybil to the infernal 



220 



MF.MOIRS OF CHAP. VII. 



regions, to the world of spirits, expand- an awful 
and boundless prospect, from the nocturnal gloom 
of the Cumaean grot, 

Ibant obscuri sola sub noctc per umbram, 

to the meridian brightness of the Elysian iields ; 

Largior hie campos aether et lumine vestit 
Purpurco 

from the dreams of simple Nature, to the dreams, 
alas ! of Egyptian theology, and the philosophy of 
the Greeks. But the final dismission of the hero 
through the ivory gate, whence 

Falsa ad coelura mittunt insomnia manes, 

seems to dissolve the whole enchantment, and 
leaves the reader in a state of cold and anxious 
scepticism. This most lame and impotent con- 
clusion has been variously imputed to the taste or 
irreligion of Virgil ; but, according to the more 
elaborate interpretation of Bishop Warburton, the 
descent to hell is not a false, but a mimic scene ; 
which represents the initiation of JEneas, in the 
character of a law-giver, to the Eleusinian mys- 
teries. This hypothesis, a singular chapter in the 
Divine Legation of Moses, had been admitted by 
many as true ; it was praised by all as ingenious ; 
nor had it been exposed, in a space of thirty years, 
to a fair and critical discussion. The learning and 
the abilities of the author had raised him to a just 
eminence ; but he reigned the dictator and tyrant 
of the world of literature. The real merit of 
Warburton was degraded by the pride and pre- 
sumption witli which he pronounced his infallible 
decrees; in his polemic writings he lashed his an- 



CHAP. VII. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 221 

tagonists without mercy or moderation ; and his 
servile flatterers ( see the base and malignant 
Essay on the Delicacy of Friendship) 3 , exalting the 
master critic far above Aristotle and Longinus, 
assaulted every modest dissenter who refused to 
consult the oracle, and to adore the idol. In a 
land of liberty, such despotism must provoke a 
general opposition, and the zeal of opposition is 
seldom candid or impartial. A late professor of 
Oxford (Dr. Lowth), in a pointed and polished 
epistle* (August 31st, 176-5), defended himself, 
and attacked the Bishop ; and, whatsoever might 
be the merits of an insignificant controversy, his 
victory was clearly established by the silent con- 
fusion of Warburton and his slaves. / too, without 
any private offence, was ambitious of breaking a 
lance against the giant's shield ; and in the be- 
ginning of the year 1770, my Critical Observations 
on the Sixth Book of the iEneid were sent, with- 
out my name, to the press. In this short Essay, 
my first English publication, I aimed my strokes 
against the person and the hypothesis of Bishop 
Warburton. I proved, at least to my own satis- 
faction, that the ancient lawgivers did not invent 
the mysteries, and that iEneas was never invested 
with the office of lawgiver : that there is not any 
argument, any circumstance, which can melt a 
fable into allegory, or remove the scene from the 
Lake Avernus to the Temple of Ceres : that such 

a By Hurd, afterwards Bishop of Worcester. — See Dr. Pars's 
Tracts by Warburton, and a Warburtoilian. 



* This letter of Lowth's is a prelates engaged in this fierce in- 
master-piece of its kind, and if our tellectual gladiatorism, the chief 
calmer judgment is offended by the blame must fall on the aggressor, 
unseemly spectacle of two christian Warburton. — M. 



t -J-J KEMOIRS OF CHAP. VII. 

a wild supposition is equally injurious to the poet 
and the man : thai if Virgil was not initiated lie 
could not, if he were he would not, reveal the 
secrets of the initiation : that the anathema of 
Horace (vetabo qui Cereris sacrum vidgarit, tyc.) 
at once attests his own ignorance and the innocence 
of his friend. As the Bishop of Gloucester and 
his party maintained a discreet silence, my critical 
disquisition was soon lost among the pamphlets of 
the day; but the public coldness was overbalanced 
to my feelings by the weighty approbation of the 
last and best editor of Virgil, Professor Heyne of 
Gottingen, who acquiesces in my confutation, and 
styles the unknown author, doctus - - - et elegan- 
tissimus Britannus. But I cannot resist the temp- 
tation of transcribing the favourable judgment of 
Mr. Hayley, himself a poet and a scholar: " An 
intricate hypothesis, twisted into a long and la- 
boured chain of quotation and argument, the Dis- 
sertation on the Sixth Book of Virgil, remained 
some time unrefuted. - - - - At length, a superior, 
but anonymous, critic arose, who, in one of the 
most judicious and spirited essays that our nation 
has produced, on a point of classical literature, 
completely overturned this ill-founded edifice, and 
exposed the arrogance and futility of its assuming 
architect." He even condescends to justify an 
acrimony of style, which had been gently blamed 
by the more unbiassed German ; " Paulo acrius 
quam velis - - - - perstrinxit" 4 But I cannot for- 

* The editor of theWarburtonian tracts, Dr. Parr (p. 192.), considers 
the allegorical interpretation " as completely refuted in a most clear, 
elegant, and decisive work of criticism ; which could not, indeed, derive 
authority from the greatest name ; but to which the greatest name might 

with propriety have been affixed." — S, 



CHAP. VII. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 223 

give myself the contemptuous treatment of a man 
who, with all his faults, was entitled to my esteem 5 ; 
and I can less forgive, in a personal attack, the 
cowardly concealment of my name and character. 

In the fifteen years between my Essay on the 
Study of Literature and the first volume of the 
Decline and Fall (1761 — 1776), this criticism on 
Warburton, and some articles in the Journal, were 
my sole publications. It is more especially incum- 
bent on me to mark the employment, or to confess 
the waste of time, from my travels to my father's 
death, an interval in which I was not diverted by 
any professional duties from the labours and 
pleasures of a studious life. 1. As soon as I was 
released from the fruitless task of the Swiss revolu- 
tions (I768), I began gradually to advance from 
the wish to the hope, from the hope to the design, 
from the design to the execution, of my historical 
work, of whose limits and extent I had yet a very 
inadequate notion. The Classics, as low as Tacitus, 
the younger Pliny, and Juvenal, were my old and 
familiar companions. I insensibly plunged into 
the ocean of the Augustan history; and in the 
descending series I investigated, with my pen 

5 The Divine Legation of Moses is a monument, already crumbling 
in the dust, of the vigour and weakness of the human mind. If War- 
burton's new argument proved any thing, it would be a demonstration 
against the legislator, who left his people without the knowledge of a 
future state. But some episodes of the work, on the Greek philosophy, 
the hieroglyphics of Egypt, &c, are entitled to the praise of learning, 
imagination, and discernment.* 



* "Warburton, with all his bold- spirit and opinions of his authors. 

ness and ingenuity, was not pro- The great proof of the discernment 

foundly read in the Greek philoso- of Warburton is his dim second sight 

phers ; he caught at single passages, of the modern discoveries in hiero- 

which favoured his own views, glyphics. — M. 
rather than fully represented the 



g«4 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. VII. 

almost always in my hand, the original records, 
both Greek and Latin, from Dion Cassius to 
Ammianus Marcellinus, from the reign of Trajan 
to the last age of the Western Caesars. The suhsi- 
diary rays of medals, and inscriptions of geography 
and chronology, were thrown on their proper 
objects; and I applied the collections of Tillemont, 
whose inimitable accuracy almost assumes the 
character of genius, to fix and arrange within my 
reach the loose and scattered atoms of historical 
information. Through the darkness of the middle 
ages I explored my way in the Annals and Anti- 
quities of Italy of the learned Muratori; and 
diligently compared them with the parallel or 
transverse lines of Sigonius and Maffei, Baronius 
and Pagi, till I almost grasped the ruins of Rome 
in the fourteenth century, without suspecting that 
this final chapter must be attained by the labour of 
six quartos and twenty years. Among the books 
which I purchased, the Theodosian Code, with 
the commentary of James Godefroy, must be 
gratefully remembered : I used it (and much I used 
it) as a work of history, rather than of juris- 
prudence : but in every light it may be considered 
as a full and capacious repository of the political 
state of the empire in the fourth and fifth centuries. 
As I believed, and as I still believe, that the pro- 
pagation of the Gospel, and the triumph of the 
church, are inseparably connected with the decline 
of the Roman monarchy, I weighed the causes and 
effects of the revolution, and contrasted the nar- 
ratives and apologies of the Christians themselves, 
with the glances of candour or enmity which the 



CHAP. VII. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 225 

Pagans have cast on the rising sects. The Jewish 
and Heathen testimonies, as they are collected and 
illustrated by Dr. Lardner, directed, without super- 
seding, my search of the originals ; and in an 
ample dissertation on the miraculous darkness of 
the passion, I privately drew my conclusions from 
the silence of an unbelieving age. I have assem- 
bled the preparatory studies, directly or indirectly 
relative to my history ; but, in strict equity, they 
must be spread beyond this period of my life, over 
the two summers (1771 and 1772) that elapsed 
between my father's death and my settlement in 
London. 2. In a free conversation with books and 
men, it would be endless to enumerate the names 
and characters of all who are introduced to our 
acquaintance ; but in this general acquaintance we 
may select the degrees of friendship and esteem. 
According to the wise maxim, Multum legere 
potius quam multa, I reviewed, again and again, 
the immortal works of the French and English, the 
Latin and Italian classics. My Greek studies 
(though less assiduous than I designed) maintained 
and extended my knowledge of that incomparable 
idiom. Homer and Xenophon were still my 
favourite authors ; and I had almost prepared for 
the press an Essay on the Cyropeedia, which, in 
my own judgment, is not unhappily laboured. 
After a certain age, the new publications of merit 
are the sole food of the many; and the most austere 
student will be often tempted to break the line, 
for the sake of indulging his own curiosity, and 
of providing the topics of fashionable currency. 
A more respectable motive may be assigned for the 
Q 



SBSO MEMOIRS OF CHAP. VII. 

third perusal of Blackstone's Commentaries, and a 

copious and critical abstract of that English work 
was my first serious production in my native 
language. S. My literary leisure was much less 
complete and independent than it might appear to 
the eye of a stranger. In the hurry of London I 
was destitute of books ; in the solitude of Hampshire 
I was not master of my time. My quiet was gra- 
dually disturbed by our domestic anxiety, and I 
should be ashamed of my unfeeling philosophy, 
had I found much time or taste for study in the 
last fatal summer (1770) of my father's decay and 
dissolution. 

The disembodying of the militia at the close of 
the war (1763) had restored the Major (a new Cin- 
cinnatus) to a life of agriculture. His labours were 
useful, his pleasures innocent, his wishes moderate ; 
and my father seemed to enjoy the state of happi- 
ness which is celebrated by poets and philosophers, 
as the most agreeable to nature, and the least ac- 
cessible to fortune. 

Beatus ille, qui procul negotiis 

(Ut prisca gens mortal ium) 

Paterna rura bobus exercet suis, 

Solutus omni foenore. 6 Hor. Epod. ii. 

But the last indispensable condition, the freedom 
from debt, was wanting to my father's felicity; and 
the vanities of his youth were severely punished by 
the solicitude and sorrow of his declining age. The 
first mortgage, on my return from Lausanne, (1758,) 

8 Like the first mortals, blest is lie, 

From debts, and usury, and business free, 
With his own team who ploughs the soil, 
Which grateful once confess'd his father's toil. Ff ini is. 



CHAP. VII. MY LIFE AXU WRITINGS- 227 

had afforded him a partial and transient relief. The 
annual demand of interest and allowance was a 
heavy deduction from his income ; the militia was 
a source of expense, the farm in his hands was not 
a profitable adventure, he was loaded with the costs 
and damages of an obsolete law-suit ; and each year 
multiplied the number, and exhausted the patience, 
of his creditors. Under these painful circumstances, 
I consented to an additional mortgage, to the sale 
of Putney, and to every sacrifice that could alleviate 
his distress. But he was no longer capable of a 
rational effort, and his reluctant delays postponed, 
not the evils themselves, but the remedies of those 
evils (^remedia malorumpotius quam mala differebat). 
The pangs of shame, tenderness, and self-reproach, 
incessantly preyed on his vitals; his constitution was 
broken ; he lost his strength and his sight : the 
rapid progress of a dropsy admonished him of his 
end, and he sunk into the grave on the 10th of No- 
vember, 1770, in the sixty-fourth year of his age. A 
family tradition insinuates that Mr. William Law 
had drawn his pupil in the light and inconstant cha- 
racter of Flatus (3), who is ever confident, and ever 
disappointed in the chace of happiness. But these 
constitutional failings were happily compensated 
by the virtues of the head and heart, by the warmest 
sentiments of honour and humanity. His graceful 
person, polite address, gentle manners, and unaf- 
fected cheerfulness, recommended him to the favour 
of every company ; and in the change of times and 
opinions, his liberal spirit had long since delivered 
him from the zeal and prejudice of a Tory educa- 
tion. I submitted to the order of Nature ; and 
q 2 



228 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. VII. 

my grief was soothed by the conscious satisfaction 
that I had discharged all the duties of filial piety. 
As soon as 1 had paid the last solemn duties to 

my father, and obtained, from time and reason, a 
tolerable composure of mind, I began to form a 
plan of an independent life, most adapted to my 
circumstances and inclination. Yet so intricate 
was the net, my efforts were so awkward and feeble, 
that nearly two years (November, 1770 — October, 
1772) were suffered to elapse before I could dis- 
entangle myself from the management of the farm, 
and transfer my residence from Beriton to a house 
in London. During this interval I continued to 
divide my year between town and the country ; 
but my new situation was brightened by hope ; my 
stay in London was prolonged into the summer ; and 
the uniformity of the summer was occasionally 
broken by visits and excursions at a distance from 
home. The gratification of my desires (they were 
not immoderate) has been seldom disappointed by 
the want of money or credit ; my pride was never 
insulted by the visit of an importunate tradesman ; 
and my transient anxiety for the past or future has 
been dispelled by the studious or social occupation 
of the present hour. My conscience doesnotaccuse 
me of any act of extravagance or injustice, and the 
remnant of my estate affords an ample ami honour- 
able provision for my declining age. I shall not 
expatiate on my economical affairs, which cannot 
be instructive or amusing to the reader. It is a 
rule of prudence, as well as of politeness, to reserve 
such confidence for the ear of a private friend, 
without exposing our situation to the envy or pity 



CHAP. VII. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 229 

of strangers ; for envy is productive of hatred, 
and pity borders too nearly on contempt. Yet I 
may believe, and even assert, that in circumstances 
more indigent or more wealthy, I should never 
have accomplished the task, or acquired the fame, 
of an historian ; that my spirit would have been 
broken by poverty and contempt, and that my in- 
dustry might have been relaxed in the labour and 
luxury of a superfluous fortune. 

I had now attained the first of earthly blessings, 
independence : I was the absolute master of my 
hours and actions : nor was I deceived in the hope 
that the establishment of my library in town would 
allow me to divide the day between study and 
society. Each year the circle of my acquaintance, 
the number of my dead and living companions, was 
enlarged. To a lover of books, the shops and sales 
of London present irresistible temptations ; and the 
manufacture of my history required a various and 
growing stock of materials. The militia, my travels, 
the House of Commons, the fame of an author 
contributed to multiply my connections : I was 
chosen a member of the fashionable clubs ; and, 
before I left England in 1JS3, there were few per- 
sons of any eminence in the literary or political 
world to whom I was a stranger. 7 It would most 
assuredly be in my power to amuse the reader with 

7 From the mixed, though polite company of Boodle's, White's, and 
Brooks's, I must honourably distinguish a weekly society, which was 
instituted in the year 1764, aud which still continues to flourish, under 
the title of the Literary Club. (4) (Hawkins's Life of Johnson, p. 415. 
Boswell's Tour to the Hebrides, p. 97.) The names of Dr. Johnson, 
Mr. Burke, Mr. Topham Beauclerc, Mr. Garrick, Dr. Goldsmith, Sir 
Joshua Reynolds, Mr. Colman, Sir William Jones, Dr. Percy, Mr. Fox, 
Mr. Sheridan, Mr. Adam Smith, Mr. Steevens, Mr. Dunning, Sir 

Q 3 



230 MEMOIRS OF .MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 

a gallery of portraits and a collection of anecdotes. 
But I li i\ e always condemned the practice of trans- 
forming a private memorial into a vehicle of satire 

or praise. By my own choice I passed in town the 
greatest part of the year: but whenever I was de- 
sirous of breathing the air of the country, I pos- 
sessed an hospitable retreat at Sheffield-place in 
Sussex, in the family of my valuable friend Mr. 
Holroyd, whose character, under the name of Lord 
Sheffield, has since been more conspicuous to the 
public. 



NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 

No. 1. page 216. 
Mr. Hume seems to have had a different opinion of this work. 

From Mr. Hume to Mr. Gibbon. 
Sir, 
It is but a few days ago since M. Deyverdun put your manuscript 
into my hands, and I have perused it with great pleasure and satisfaction. 
I have only one objection, derived from the language in which it is 
written. Why do you compose in French, and carry faggots into the 
wood, as Horace says with regard to Romans who wrote in Greek ? 
I grant that you have a like motive to those Romans, and adopt a lan- 
guage much more generally diffused than your native tongue : but have 



Joseph Banks, Dr. Warton, and his brother Mr. Thomas Warton, Dr. 
Burney, &e. form a large and luminous constellation of British stars.* 



* See in Mr. Croker's Boswell, Elphinstone, Right. Hon. Sir C. 

i. 528, the list of the club, in the E. Grey, Hudson Gurney, Esq- 

year 1829. Since that time, to II. (iaihy Knight, Esq., T. B. 

1839, the following members have Macaulay, Esq., Viscount Mahon, 

been elected: — Lord Brougham, Rev. H. H. Milman, N.W. Senior, 

Rev. Dr. C. P. Burney, Earl of Esq., Sir Martin Archer Shee, Rev. 

Caernarvon, Lord Dover, Lord Sydney Smith, Rev. W. Whewell. 

F. Egerton, Hon. Mount Stuart — M. 



CHAP. VII. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 231 

you not remarked the fate of those two ancient languages in following 
ages ? The Latin, though then less celebrated, and confined to more 
narrow limits, has in some measure outlived the Greek, and is now more 
generally understood by men of letters. Let the French, therefore, 
triumph in the present diffusion of their tongue. Our solid and in- 
creasing establishments in America, where we need less dread the in- 
undation of Barbarians, promise a superior stability and duration to the 
English language. 

Your use of the French tongue has also led you into a style more 
poetical and figurative, and more highly coloured, than our language 
seems to admit of in historical productions : for such is the practice o 
French writers, particularly the more recent ones, who illuminate their 
pictures more than custom will permit us. On the whole, your History, 
in my opinion, is written with spirit and judgment; and I exhort you 
very earnestly to continue it. The objections that occurred to me on 
reading it, were so frivolous, that I shall not trouble you with them, 
and should, I believe, have a difficulty to recollect them. I am, with 
great esteem, 

London, Sir, your most obedient, 

24th of Oct. 1767. and most humble Servant, 

(Signed) David Hume. 



No. 2. page 218. 

See Letter, Miscell. Works, vol. ii. page 68. 

These volumes have become extremely rare; the reader maybe in- 
terested by some extracts from Gibbon's avowed article on Lord 
Lyttleton's work. The general tone is candid, courteous, and judicious ; 
it is a fair appreciation of the merits of a very unequal work, and 
at the same time occasionally very characteristic of the reviewer. He 
commences by an account of Lord Lyttleton's former works, and thus 
notices his celebrated tract on St. Paul : " La Christianisme a trouve 
dans ce seigneur un defenseur zele, qui ajouta aux preuves ordinaires 
de la religion un argument qui fait honneur du moins aux lumieres et 
aux sentimens de son auteur." 

The critical accuracy of Gibbon is well shown in the following just 
observation : — 

" Sur l'autorite d'un auteur contemporain et temoin oculaire, my 
Lord Lyttleton avoit compte l'armee du Due Guillaume a cinquante 
mille chevaux et dix mille fantassins (milites). Je respecte ce te- 
moignage, et plus encore le jugement du savant auteur, mais l'un et 
l'autre doivent etre sounds aux lois de la vraisemblance. Une cavalerie 
aussi nombreusen'a jamais passe lamer. Elle composeroit meme avecle 
cortege des chevaliers, une armee depresdedeux centmilleshommes : je 
sais que le mot de miles, qui n'avoit distingue qu'un soldat quelconque, 
commencoit vers le XI me siecle de prendre le sens exclusif d'un cavalier; 
Q 4 



332 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 

mais I'ancienne signification de cc mot n'etoit point perdue. On me 
permettra de croire, que L'historien Normand l'a employee, el que 
I'armee entiere du Due Guilluame n'alloit qu'a environ cinquante mille 
combattans." 

Lord Lyttleton introduces the beautiful anecdote of Robert of Nor- 
mandy, who, when, with William Rufus, he was besieging their brother 
Henry in M . St. Michael, on hearing that Henry was suffering fur want 
of water, sent him a supply. Being reproached by William for his mis- 
placed humanity, he replied, "Am I to be blamed for not permitting my 
bi other to perish of thirst ? '' Gibbon subjoins, "My Lord Lyttleton 
discute un peu trop froidement cette reponse : ' J'aime mieux la 
sentir. ' " The quiet irony of the following is in Gibbon's best style : 
" My Lord L., enhardi par l'exemple de tous les anciens et de quelques 
uns des modernes, compose pour le Counte d' Arundel une harangue 
de trois pages, que ce comte auroit du prononcer. Notre savant au- 
teur, qui connoit a fond le XI me siecle, avoit sans doute ses raisons 
pour preter a l'orateur la vertu de Caton, plutot que l'eloquence 
de Ciceron." 

Gibbon anticipated the privilege assumed by modern reviewers, 
to which we owe much admirable writing, that of selecting the chief 
facts from a passage in a dull, and perhaps prolix writer, compressing it 
into life, and arraying it in his own glowing language. The whole cha- 
racter of Becket, which he has thus founded on Lord Lyttleton, is ex- 
tremely curious. These sentences might be given as a translation from 
the Decline and Fall. " Henri avoit mal connu le caractere de son favori. 
Cet esprit ambitieux aima mieux etre le rival que le ministre de son 
maitre. Si la grace l'eclaira dans ce moment, il faut convenir qu'elle 
avoit attendu le terns ou elle s'accordoit parfaitement avec ses interets 
temporels." He thus describes the death of Becket. "Becket rentra 
dans Canterberi au milieu des acclamations du peuple, qui vint a sa 
rencontre en criant : ' Lone soit celui qui vient au nom du Seigneur.' 
II paroit par sa correspondence que I'archeveque, instruit du nombre 
et de la rage de ses enncmis, attendoit au martyre et le desiroit. Le 
fanatisme, que cet habile politique avoit si longtemps inspire aux 
autres l'avoit enfin sai.si, et le fourbe n'etoit plus qu'un enthousiaste. 
Un philosophc qui auroit vu de [ires les progres de ce fanatisme dans 
l'ame du prelat, eut pu enrichir d'un morceau tres curieux 1'histoire 
de I'esprit humain. Je ne m'appesantirai sur les details de la mort de 
Becket: on sait assez, que Henri irrite des nouveaux exces de l'arche- 
veque, laissa echapper le desir d'une vengeance, qui ne fut servie que 
trop fulelemcnt. Becket fut hie au pied de l'autel de sa cathedralc. et 
les derniers momens tie sa vie furent ceux d'un saint et d'un grand 
hommc !" 

The review concludes with the following estimate of Lord Lyttleton, 
carefully reserving the third place among the historians of the age: " Lea 
autres nations de L'Europe avoient devance les Anglois dans la carriere 
de 1'Histoire. L'Angleterre possedait des poetes et des philosophcs. 



CHAP. VII. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. Q33 

mais on lui reprochait de n'avoir que de froids annalistes, ou des 
declamateurs passionnes. Deux grands hommes ont fait taire ce 
reproche ; un Robertson a pare les annales de sa patrie de toutes les 
graces de 1' eloquence la plus male. Un Hume, ne pour eclaireret pour 
juger les hommes, a porte dans l'Histoire la lumiere d'une philosophic 
profonde et elegante. Nous ne prodiguerons jamais a la grandeur la 
recompense des talens. My Lord L. ne doit pas pretend re a la gloire 
de ces hommes de genie, mais il lui reste les qualites d'un bon ecrivain, 
d'un savant tres-eclaire, d'un ecrivain exact et impartial, et c'est avec 
plaisir que nous les lui accordons." 

I can discover no indications of Gibbon's style or sentiment in the 
second volume of these Memoirs. The review of a dialogue ascribed 
to Lord Herbert of Cherbury approaches the nearest to his manner, 
but I doubt his authorship of this. — M. 

No. 3. page 227. 

" Look at Flatus, and learn how miserable they are, who are left to 
the folly of their own passions. 

" Flatus is rich and in health, yet always uneasy, and always search- 
ing after happiness. Every time you visit him, you find some new 
project in his head ; he is eager upon it as something that is more 
worth his while, and will do more for him than any thing that is already 
past. Every new thing so seizes him, that if you were to take him 
from it, he would think himself quite undone. His sanguine temper, 
and strong passions, promise him so much happiness in every thing, that 
he is always cheated, and is satisfied with nothing. 

" At his first setting out in life, fine clothes was his delight, his in- 
quiry was only after the best tailors and peruke-makers, and he had no 
thoughts of excelling in any thing but dress. He spared no expense, 
but carried every nicety to its greatest height. But this happiness not 
answering his expectations, he left off his brocades, put on a plain coat, 
railed at fops and beaus, and gave himself up to gaming with great 
eagerness. 

" This new pleasure satisfied him for some time, he envied no other 
way of life. But being by the fate of play drawn into a duel, where 
he narrowly escaped his death, he left off the dice, and sought for 
happiness no longer amongst the gamesters. 

" The next thing that seized his wandering imagination, was the 
diversion of the town : and for more than a twelvemonth, you heard 
him talk of nothing but ladies, drawing-rooms, birth days, plays, balls, 
and assemblies. But growing sick of these, he had recourse to hard 
drinking. Here he had many a merry night, and met with stronger 
joys than any he had felt before. Here he had thoughts of setting up 
his staff, and looking out no farther ; but unluckily falling into a fever, 
he grew angry at all strong liquors, and took his leave of the happiness 
of being drunk. 



234 MEMOIRS OF m LIFE AND WHITINGS. 

" The next attempt after happiness carried him into the field ; tor 
two or three years, nothing was so happy as hunting ; he entered upon 

it with all his BOul, and leaped more hedges and ditches, than had ever 
been known in so Bhort a time. You never saw him but in 
coat ; he was the envy of all that blow the horn, and always spoke to 
in great propriety of language. If um met him at home in 

a bad day, you would hear him blow his horn, and be entertained with 
the surprising accidents of the last noble chase. No sooner had 
Flatus outdone all the world in the breed and education of his dogs, 
built new kennels, new stables, and bought a new hunting-seat, but he 
immediately got sight of another happiness, hated the senseless noise 
and hurry of hunting, gave away the dogs, and was for some time after 
deep in the pleasures of building. 

" Now he invents new kinds of dove-cotes, and has such contrivances 
in his barns and stables, as were never seen before: he -wonders at the 
dulness of the old builders, is wholly bent upon the improvement of 
architecture, and will hardly hang a door in the ordinary way. He tells 
his friends, that he never was so delighted in any thing in his life ; that 
he has more happiness amongst his brick and mortar than ever he had 
at court; and that he is contriving how to have some little matter to 
do that way as long as he lives. 

" The next year he leaves his house unfinished, complains to every- 
body of masons and carpenters, and devotes himself wholly to the 
business of riding about. After this, you can never see him but on 
horseback, and so highly delighted with this new way of life, that he 
would tell you, give him but his horse and a clean country to ride in, 
and you might take all the rest to yourself. A variety of new saddles 
and bridles, and a great change of horses, added much to the pleasure 
of this new way of life. But, however, having after some time tired 
both himself and his horses, the happiest thing he could think of next, 
was to go abroad and visit foreign countries ; and there, indeed, hap- 
piness exceeded his imagination, and he was only uneasy that he had 
begun so fine a life no sooner. The next month he returned home, 
unable to bear any longer the impertinence of foreigners. 

" After this he was a great student for one whole year ; he was up 
early and late at his Italian grammar, that he might have the happiness 
of understanding the opera, whenever he should hear one, and not 
be like those unreasonable people, that are pleased with they know 
not what. 

" Flatus is very ill-natured, or otherwise, just as his affairs happen 
to be when you visit him ; if you find him when some project is almost 
wore out, you will find a peevish ill-bred man; but if you had seen 
him just as he entered upon his riding regimen, or begun to excel in 
sounding of the horn, you had been saluted with great civility. 

" Flatus is now at full stand, and is doing what he never did in his 

life before, he is reasoning and reflecting with himself. He loses 



CHAP. VII. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 235 

several clays in considering which of his cast off ways of life he should 
try again. 

" But here a new project conies in to his relief. He is now living upon 
herbs, and running about the country, to get himself into as good wind 
as any running-footman in the kingdom." — Law's Serious Call. — M. 

No. 4. page 229. 

That great diary of the conversations held at " the Club," Boswell's 
Johnson, has little which relates to Gibbon. The following is the best: 

" Johnson, whose mind had been led to think of wild beasts, suddenly 
broke in upon the conversation with, ' Pennant tells of bears.' When 
the first ludicrous effect from this ejaculation of the " great Bear" had 
subsided, silence ensued. He (then) proceeded, ' We are told that the 
black bear is innocent; but I should not like to trust myself with him.' 
Mr. Gibbon muttered, in a low tone of voice, * I should not much like 
to trust myself to you.' This piece of sarcastic pleasantry was a prudent 
resolution, if applied to a competition of abilities." To this passage Mr. 
Croker (vol. iii. p. 222.) subjoins the following note: — "Mr. Green, the 
anonymous author of the ' Diary of a Lover of Literature' (printed 
at Ipswich), states (under the date of 13th June, 1796,) that a friend, 
whom he designates by the initial M. (and whom I believe to be my able 
and obliging friend, Sir James Mackintosh), talking to him of the relative 
ability of Burke and Gibbon, said, ' Gibbon might have been cut out of a 
corner of Burke's mind without his missing it.' I fancy, now that en- 
thusiasm has cooled, Sir James would be inclined to allow Gibbon a 
larger share of mind, though his intellectual powers can never be com- 
pared with Burke's." 

Yet Gibbon's History enjoys and will probably maintain a much 
higher European reputation than any of Johnson's, perhaps of Burke's, 
writings. There is no just standard of admeasurement between the 
minds of writers distinguished in such different departments of literature. 
Johnson or even Burke (excellent as his sketch of the early History 
of England is) could no more have written the History of the Decline 
and Fall of Rome, than Gibbon the Rambler, or the Letters on the 
French Revolution. 

In page 335. (vol. iii.) we have a specimen of Boswell's own small wit 
• on the " infidelity" contained in the History. 

" Lord Eliot informs me, that one day when Johnson and he were at 
dinner at a gentleman's house in London, after Lord Chesterfield's Letters 
being mentioned, Johnson surprised the company by this sentence, 
' Every man of education would rather be called a rascal, than accused ~)\ 
of deficiency in the graces.' Mr. Gibbon, who was present, turned to a 
lady who knew Johnson well, and lived much with him, and in his quaint 
manner, tapping his box, addressed her thus : ' Don't you think, Madam, 
(looking towards Johnson) that among all your acquaintance, you could 



SJ3D MEMOIRS OF ( HAP. VII. 

fiml one exception ? ' Tlie lady smiled and seemed to acqui 
Croker's Boswell, iii. p. 419. 

Note. — Mr. Colman, in bis Random Records lately published, has given 
a livelj sketch of the appearance and manners of Johnson and Gibbon 
in society: — " Tlic learned Gibbon was a curious counterbalance to the 
learned (may I not say, lets learned) Johnson. Their manners and taste 
both in writing and conversation, were as different as their habiliments. 
On the day I first sat down with Johnson, in his rusty brown suit, and 
his black worsted stockings, Gibbon was placed opposite to me in 
a suit of flowered velvet, with a bag and sword. Each had his measured 
phraseology ; and Johnson's famous parallel between Dryden and Pope 
might be loosely parodied, in reference to himself and Gibbon. Johnson's 
style was grand, and Gibbon's elegant ; the stateliness of the former 
was sometimes pedantic, and the polish of the latter was occasionally 
finical. Johnson marched to kettle-drums and trumpets ; Gibbon moved 
to flutes and haut-boys : Johnson hewed passages through the Alps, 
while Gibbon levelled walks through parks and gardens. Mauled as I 
had been by Johnson, Gibbon poured balm upon my bruises, by con- 
descending once or twice in the evening to talk with me : the great 
historian was light and playful, suiting his matter to the capacity of the 
boy ; but it was done more suo : still his mannerism prevailed, still he 
tapped his snuff-box, still he smirked and smiled, and rounded his 
periods with the same air of good breeding as if he were conversing 
with men. His mouth, mellifluous as Plato's, was a round hole, nearly 
in the centre of his visage. — Vol. i. p. 121, Mr. Croker's Note. — M. 



CHAP. VIII. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 237 



CHAP. VIII. 

Mr. Gibbon settles in London. — Begins his History of the 
Decline and Fall. — Becomes a Member of the House of 
Commons. — Characters of the principal Speakers. — Pub- 
lishes his First Volume ; its Reception. — Mr. Hume's 
Opinion, in a Letter to the Author. 

No sooner was I settled in my house and library, 
than I undertook the composition of the first volume 
of my history. At the outset all was dark and doubt- 
ful; even the title of the work, the true sera of the 
Decline and Fall of the Empire, the limits of the 
introduction, the division of the chapters, and the 
order of the narrative ; and I was often tempted 
to cast away the labour of seven years. The style 
of an author should be the image of his mind, but 
the choice and command of language is the fruit 
of exercise. Many experiments were made before 
I could hit the middle tone between a dull chro- 
nicle and a rhetorical declamation : three times did 
I compose the first chapter, and twice the second 
and third, before I was tolerably satisfied with their 
effect. In the remainder of the way I advanced 
with a more equal and easy pace ; but the fifteenth 
and sixteenth chapters have been reduced by three 
successive revisals, from a large volume to their 
present size ; and they might still be compressed, 
without any loss of facts or sentiments. An opposite 
fault may be imputed to the concise and superficial 
narrative of the first reigns from Commodus to Alex- 



238 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. VIII. 

ander; a fault of which! have never heard, except 
from Mr. Hume in his last journey to London. Such 

an oracle might have been consulted and obeyed 
with rational devotion; but I was soon disgusted 
with the modest practice of reading the manuscript 
to my friends. Of such friends some will praise 
from politeness, and some will criticise from vanity. 
The author himself is the best judge of his own 
performance; no one has so deeply meditated on the 
subject; nO one is so sincerely interested in the 
event. 

By the friendship of Mr. (now Lord) Eliot, who 
had married my first cousin, I was returned at the 
general election for the borough of Leskeard. (1) I 
took my seat at the beginning of the memorable 
contest between Great Britain and America, and 
supported, with many a sincere and silent vote, the 
rights, though not, perhaps, the interest of the 
mother-country. After a fleeting illusive hope, pru- 
dence condemned me to acquiesce in the humble sta- 
tion of a mute. I was not armed by Nature and 
education with the intrepid energy of mind and 
voice, 

Vincentem strepitus, et natum rebus agendis. 

Timidity was fortified by pride, and even the suc- 
cess of my pen discouraged the trial of my voice. 1 ( l 2) 

1 A French sketch of Mr. Gibbon's Life, written by h'mself, pro- 
bably for the use of some foreign journalist or translator, contains no 
fact not mentioned in bis English Life. lie there describes himself 
with his usual candour. Dcpuis huit ans il a assiste* aux deliberations 
Us plus importantes, inais il ne s'est jamais tromc /<• courage, W /<• 
talent, de parler dans une assemblce publique. This sketch was 
written before the publication of bis three last volumes, as in closing it 
he says of his History : Cette entreprise lui demande encore plusieurs 

annecs d'unc application soutenue j inais quelqu'en soit le SUCCeS, il 

trouve dans cette application meme un plaisir toujours \aricct toujours 
renaissant. — S. 



CHAP. VIII. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 239 

But I assisted at the debates of a free assembly ; 
I listened to the attack and defence of eloquence 
and reason ; I had a near prospect of the charac- 
ters, views, and passions of the first men of the age. 
The cause of government was ably vindicated by 
Lord North, a statesman of spotless integrity, a con- 
summate master of debate, who could wield, with 
equal dexterity, the arms of reason and of ridicule. 
He was seated on the Treasury-bench between his 
Attorney and Solicitor General, the two pillars of 
the law and state, magis pares quam similes • and 
the minister might indulge in a short slumber, 
whilst he was upholden on either hand by the ma- 
jestic sense of Tliurlow, and the skilful eloquence 
of TVedderburne. From the adverse side of the 
house an ardent and powerful opposition was sup- 
ported, by the lively declamation of Barrd, the 
legal acuteness of Dunning., the profuse and phi- 
losophic fancy of Burke, and the argumentative 
vehemence of Fox, who, in the conduct of a party, 
approved himself equal to the conduct of an 
empire. By such men every operation of peace 
and war, every principle of justice or policy, every 
question of authority and freedom, was attacked 
and defended ; and the subject of the momentous 
contest was the union or separation of Great Britain 
and America. The eight sessions that I sat in 
parliament were a school of civil prudence, the 
first and most essential virtue of an historian. 

The volume of my History, which had been 
somewhat delayed by the novelty and tumult of a 
first session, was now ready for the press. After 
the perilous adventure had been declined by my 



21-0 MEMOIRS OP (HAP. VIII. 

friend Mr. Elmsley, I agreed, upon easy terms, with 
Mr. Thomas Cadell, a respectable bookseller, and 
Mr. William Stralian, an eminent printer(S); and 
they undertook the care and risk of the pub- 
lication, which derived more credit from the name 
of the shop than from that of the author. The 
lastrevisal of the proofs was submitted to my vigi- 
lance ; and many blemishes of style, which had been 
invisible in the manuscript, were discovered and cor- 
rected in the printed sheet. So moderate were our 
hopes, that the original impression had been stinted 
to five hundred, till the number was doubled by the 
prophetic taste of Mr. Strahan. During this awful 
interval I was neither elated by the ambition of 
fame, nor depressed by the apprehension of con- 
tempt. My diligence and accuracy were attested by 
my own conscience. History is the most popular 
species of waiting, since it can adapt itself to the 
highest or the lowest capacity. I had chosen an 
illustrious subject. Rome is familiar to the school- 
boy and the statesman ; and my narrative was de- 
duced from the last period of classical reading. I 
had likewise flattered myself, that an age of light 
and liberty would receive, without scandal, an in- 
quiry to the human causes of the progress and 
establishment of Christianity. (1-) 

I am at a loss how to describe the success of the 
work, without betraying the vanity of the writer. 
The first impression was exhausted in a few (.lays; 
a second and third edition were scarcely adequate 
to the demand; and the bookseller's property was 
twice invaded by the pirates of Dublin. My book 
was on every table, and almost on every toilette ; 



CHAP. VIII. 3IY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 241 

the historian was crowned by the taste or fashion 
of the day; nor was the general voice disturbed by 
the barking of any profane critic. The favour of 
mankind is most freely bestowed on a new ac- 
quaintance of any original merit ; and the mutual 
surprise of the public and their favourite is pro- 
ductive of those warm sensibilities, which at a 
second meeting can no longer be rekindled. If 
I listened to the music of praise, I was more se- 
riously satisfied with the approbation of my judges. 
The candour of Dr. Robertson embraced his dis- 
ciple.^) A letter from Mr. Hume overpaid the 
labour often years ; but I have never presumed to 
accept a place in the triumvirate of British his- 
torians. 

That curious and original letter will amuse the 
reader, and his gratitude should shield my free 
communication from the reproach of vanity. 

"Edinburgh, 18th March, 1766. 

" Dear Sir, 
" As I ran through your volume of history with 
great avidity and impatience, I cannot forbear 
discovering somewhat of the same impatience in 
returning you thanks for your agreeable present, 
and expressing the satisfaction which the per- 
formance has given me. Whether I consider the 
dignity of your style, the depth of your matter, or 
the extensiveness of your learning, I must regard 
the work as equally the object of esteem ; and I 
own that if I had not previously had the happiness 
of your personal acquaintance, such a performance 
from an Englishman in our age would have given 

R 



242 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. VIII. 

me some surprise. You may smile at this sentiment, 
but as it seems to me that your countrymen, for 

almost a whole generation, have given themselves 
up to barbarous and absurd taction, and have totally 
neglected all polite letters, I no longer expected 
any valuable production ever to come from them. 
I know it will give you pleasure (as it did me) to 
find that all the men of letters in this place concur in 
their admiration of your work, and in their anxious 
desire of your continuing it. 

" When I heard of your undertaking (which 
was some time ago), I own I was a little curious 
to see how you would extricate yourself from the 
subject of your two last chapters. I think you 
have observed a very prudent temperament; but it 
was impossible to treat the subject so as not to 
give grounds of suspicion against you, and you 
may expect that a clamour will arise. This, if 
any thing, will retard your success with the 
public ; for in every other respect your work is cal- 
culated to be popular. But among many other 
marks of decline, the prevalence of superstition in 
England prognosticates the fall of philosophy and 
decay of taste ; and though nobody be more ca- 
pable than you to revive them, you will probably 
find a struggle in your first advances. 

" I see you entertain a great doubt with regard 
to the authenticity of the poems of Ossian. You 
are certainly right in so doing. It is indeed 
strange that any men of sense could have imagined 
it possible, that above twenty thousand verses, 
along with numberless historical facts, could have 
been preserved by oral tradition during fifty gene- 



CHAP. VIII. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 243 

rations, by the rudest, perhaps, of all the European 
nations, the most necessitous, the most turbulent, 
and the most unsettled. Where a supposition is 
so contrary to common sense, any positive evidence 
of it ought never to be regarded. Men run with 
great avidity to give their evidence in favour of 
what flatters their passions and their national pre- 
judices. You are therefore over and above indul- 
gent to us in speaking of the matter with hesi- 
tation. 

" I must inform you that we are all very 

anxious to hear that you have fully collected the 

materials for your second volume, and that you 

are even considerably advanced in the composition 

of it. I speak this more in the name of my friends 

than in my own, as I cannot expect to live so long 

as to see the publication of it. Your ensuing 

volume will be more delicate than the preceding, 

but I trust in your prudence for extricating you 

from the difficulties ; and, in all events, you have 

courage to despise the clamour of bigots. 

" I am, with great regard, 

" Dear Sir, 

" Your most obedient, and most humble servant, 

" David Hume." 

Some weeks afterwards I had the melancholy 
pleasure of seeing Mr. Hume in his passage through 
London ; his body feeble, his mind firm. On the 
25th of August of the same year (1776) ne died, 
at Edinburgh, the death of a philosopher. 



r 2 



244 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AM) WRITINGS. 



NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 

So. 1. page 237. 

Edward Gibbon, Esq. to J. Holroyd, Esq. 

It is surely infinite condescension for a senator to bestow his atten- 
tion on the affairs of a juryman. A senator ? Yes, Sir, at last 

Quod .... Dicum promittcre nemo 

Auderet, volvenda dies en attulit ultro, 

Yesterday morning, about half an hour after seven, as I was destroying 
an army of Barbarians, I heard a double rap at the door, and my friend 
Mr. Eliot was soon introduced. After some idle conversation he told 
me, that if I was desirous of being in parliament, he had an independent 
seat very much at my service. * * * This is a fine prospect opening 
upon me, and if next spring I should take my scat, and publish my 
book, it will be a very memorable aera in my life. I am ignorant 
whether my borough will be Leskeard or St. Germains. You despise 
boroughs, and fly at nobler game. Adieu. 

No. 2. page 237. 

Gibbon early felt and acknowledged his deficiency in the qualifications 
for a parliamentary orator : — 

Mr. Gibbon to his Father. 

" But I shall say with great truth, that I never possessed that gift of 
speech, the first requisite of an orator, which use and labour may im- 
prove, but which nature alone can bestow. That my temper, quiet, 
retired, somewhat reserved, could neither acquire popularity, bear up 
against opposition, nor mix with ease in the crowds of public life. 
That even my genius (if you will allow me any) is better qualified lor 
the deliberate compositions of the closet, than for the extemporary dis- 
courses of the parliament. An unexpected objection would disconcert 
me; and as I am incapable of explaining to others what I do not tho- 
roughly understand myself, T should be meditating while I ought to be 
answering. I even want necessary prejudices ot' party, and of nation. 
In popular assemblies, it is often necessary to inspire them j and never 
orator inspired well a passion which he did not feel himself. Suppose 
mc even mistaken in my own character j tosel out with tin- repugnance 
such an opinion must produce, offers hut an Indifferent prospect." 

Yet at times he seems to have entertained ambitious thoughts of ora- 
torical success. 



CHAP. VIII. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 245 



Edward Gibbon, Esq. to J. Holroyd, Esq. 

Boodle's, Jan. 31st, 177.3. 
Sometimes people do not write because they are too idle, and some- 
times because they are too busy. The former was usually my case, but 
at present it is the latter. The fate of Europe and America seems fully 
sufficient to take up the time of one man ; and especially of a man who 
gives up a great deal of time for the purpose of public and private infor- 
mation. I think I have sucked Mauduit and Hutcheson very dry ; and 
if my confidence was equal to my eloquence, and my eloquence to my 
knowledge, perhaps I might make no very intolerable speaker. At all 
events, I fancy I shall try to expose myself. 

Semper ego auditor tantum ? nunquamne reponam ? 

For my own part, I am more and more convinced that we have both 
the right and the power on our side, and that, though the effort may 
be accompanied with some melancholy circumstances, we are now ar- 
rived at the decisive moment of preserving or of losing for ever, both 
our trade and empire. We expect next Thursday or Friday to be a 
very great day. Hitherto we have been chiefly employed in reading 
papers and rejecting petitions. Petitions were brought from London, 
Bristol, Norwich, &c. framed by party, and designed to delay. By the 
aid of some parliamentary quirks, they have been all referred to a 
separate inactive committee, which Burke calls a committee of oblivion, 
and are now considered as dead in law. I could write you fifty little 
House of Commons stories, but from their number and nature they 
suit better a conference than a letter. Our general divisions are about 
two hundred and fifty to eighty or ninety. Adieu. 

In another letter he says, " I am still a mute ; it is more tremen- 
dous than I imagined ; the great speakers fill me with despair, the bad 
ones with terror." — P. 133. 

He again attempts to take courage : — 

Edward Gibbon, Esq. to Mrs. Gibbon. 

As yet I have been mute. In the course of our American affairs, I 
have sometimes had a wish to speak, but though I felt tolerably pre- 
pared as to the matter, I dreaded exposing myself in the manner, and 
remained in my seat safe but inglorious. Upon the whole (though I 
still believe I shall try), I doubt whether Nature, not that in some 
instances 1 am ungrateful, has given me the talents of an orator, and I 
feel that I came into parliament much too late to exert them.— M. 
R 3 



-If) MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AM) WRITINGS. 

No. 3. page 239. 

Mr. Strahan's letter does great credit to his prophetic discern- 
ment — 

William Strakan, Esq. to Edw. Gibbon, Esq. 

Sir, New-street, Sunday morning, Oct. 6th, 177.3. 

I was desirous of taking an early opportunity of paying ray respects 
to you, to return you my best thanks for the pleasure I have received 
from the perusal of your work, which I have read almost as far as it is 
advanced. My opinion of it, I shall beg leave, with all submission, to 
lay before you in a few words. 

The language is the most correct, most elegant, and most expressive 
I have ever read; but that, in my mind, is its least praise. 

The work abounds with the justest maxims of sound policy, which 
while they show you to be a perfect master of your subject, discover 
your intimate knowledge of human nature, and the liberality of your 
sentiments. 

Your characters, in particular, are drawn in a masterly manner, with 
the utmost accuracy and precision ; and, as far as I am able to judge, 
in strict conformity to historic truth. 

In short, so able and so finished a performance hath hardly ever be- 
fore come under my inspection : and though I will not take upon me 
absolutely to pronounce in what manner it will be received at first by a 
capricious and giddy public, I will venture to say, it will ere long make 
a distinguished figure among the many valuable works that do honour 
to the present age ; will be translated into most of the modern lan- 
guages, and will remain a lasting monument of the genius and ability 
of the writer. 

I am with the greatest esteem and respect, 
Sir, 
Your most obedient and faithful servant, 

Will. Strahan. 

No. 4. page 239. 
Mr. Whitakcr, the Historian of Manchester, seems to have been the 
only one of his correspondents who ventured to remonstrate in plain 
and vigorous language against the Anti-Christian tendency of the 
work. As Mr. Whitaker's name will occur again, it is but justice to 
insert those passages of his letters which express his sentiments on 
this point. 

Mr. Whitaker to Edward Gibbon. Esq. 

Dear Sir, Manchester, April 21st, 1776. 

I have just finished your History : and I sit down to thank you For 
it a second time. You have laid open the interior principles of the 
Roman Constitution with great learning, and shown their operation on 



CHAP. VIII. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. Q 1 ', 

the general boil}' of the empire with great judgment. Your work 
therefore will do you high honour. You never speak feebly, except 
when you come upon British ground, and never weakly except when 
you attack Christianity. In the former case, you seem to me to want 
information. And, in the latter, you plainly want the common can- 
dour of a citizen of the world for the religious system of your country. 
Pardon me, Sir, but, much as I admire your abilities, greatly as I re- 
spect your friendship, I cannot bear without indignation your sarcastic 
slyness upon Christianity, and cannot see without pity your determined 
Hostility to the Gospel. But I leave the subject to beg a favour of 
you. After so open a declaration, I pay a great compliment to the 
friendliness of your spirit, to solicit from you any favour. 



Mr. IVhitaker to Edward Gibbon, Esq. 

" Dear Sir, Manchester, May 11th, 1776. 

" I thank you for your franks. And I thank you still more for your 
friendly return to my last. You received my application to you about 
the business in parliament, with your usual kindness. 1 wrote to others 
of my friends in the House at the same time. And I carried the great 
point which I aimed up. You also received my animadversions upon 
your History with candour. I was particularly pointed, I believe, in 
what I said concerning the religious part of it. I wrote from my 
feelings at the time; and was perhaps the less inclined to suppress 
those feelings from friendliness, because I had two favours to beg of 
you. I hope I shall ever be attached, with every power of my judgment 
and my affection, to that glorious system of truth, which is the vital 
principle of happiness to my soul in time and in eternity. And in this 
I act not from any " restraints of profession." I should despise myself, 
if I did. I act from the fullest conviction of a mind, that has been a 
good deal exercised in inquiries into truth, and that has shown (I fancy) 
a strong spirit of rational scepticism in rejecting and refuting a variety 
of opinions, which have passed current for ages in our national 
history. 

" These however, if never so true, are but trifles light as air in my esti- 
mation, when they are compared with what I think the great blot of your 
work. You have there exhibited Deism in a new shape, and in one 
that is more likely to affect the uninstructed million, than the reason- 
ing form which she has usually worn. You seem tome like another ^ 
Tacitus, revived with all his animosity against Christianity, his strong 
philosophical spirit of sentiment, and more than his superiority to the 
absurdities of heathenism. And you will have the dishonour (pardon 
me, Sir) of being ranked by the folly of scepticism, that is working so 
powerfully at present, among the most distinguished deists of the age. 
I have long suspected the tendency of your opinions. I once took the 
liberty of hinting my suspicions. But I did not think the poison had 
R 4 



218 



MEMOIRS "i . HAP. VIII. 



spread so universally through your frame. And I can only deplore the 
misfortune, and a very great one I consider it, to the highest and 
dearest interests of man among all your readers.* 

" These must be very numerous. I see you are getting a second 
edition already. I giye you joy of it. And I remain, with an equal 
mixture of regret and regard, 

Your obliged Friend and Servant, 

J. WlIITAKER." 

Mr. Nicholls, in his Lit. Anecd. iii. 102. has a story of Gibbon's 
submitting the MS. to Whitaker, without the two last chapters.— M. 



No. 5. page 240. 

Extract of a Letter from Dr. Robertson to Mr. Stratum, dated 
Edinburgh College, March 15. 1776. 

* * * * " Since my last I have read Mr. Gibbon's 

History with much attention, and great pleasure. It is a work of very 
high merit indeed. He possesses that industry of research, without 
which no man deserves the name of an historian. His narrative is per- 
spicuous and interesting; his style is elegant and forcible, though in 
some passages I think rather too laboured, and in others too quaint. 
But these defects are amply compensated by the beauty of the general 
flow of language, and a very peculiar happiness in many of his 
expressions. I have traced him in many of his quotations (for 
experience has taught me to suspect the accuracy of my brother 
penmen), and I find he refers to no passage but what he has seen 
with his own eyes. I hope the book will be as successful as it 
deserves to be. I have not yet read the two last chapters, but am 
sorry, from what I have heard of them, that he has taken such a 
tone in them as will give great offence, and hurt the sale of the 
book." 

There is something not quite honest in this prudential civility of 
Robertson. — M. 



* It" the letters of Mr. Whitaker had been perused previously to 
the publication of the former edition, this manly and spirited declar- 
ation in favour of the principles of the Established Church, and 

against the perversion of those opinions which constitute the greatest 
comfort and consolation of the Christian world, would not have been 
then withheld from the public. S. 



MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 249 



CHAP. IX. 

Mr. Gibbon makes a Second Visit to Paris. — His dispute 
with the Abbe Mably. — He enumerates and characterises 
the Writers icho wrote against his \hth and 16th Chapters. 
— By the desire of Ministry, he lorites the Memoire Jus- 
tificatif. — By the Interest of Lord Loughborough is ap- 
pointed one of the Lords of Trade. — Publishes his Second 
and Third Volumes of his History ; their reception. — 
Mentions Archdeacon Travis's Attack upon him, and com- 
mends Mr. Por son's Ansiver to the Archdeacon. — Notices 
also Bishop Neivton's Censure. — Proceeds in his History. 

My second excursion to Paris was determined 
by the pressing invitation of M. and Madame 
Necker, who had visited England in the preceding 
summer. (1) On my arrival I found M. Necker 
Director-general of the finances, in the first bloom 
of power and popularity. His private fortune 
enabled him to support a liberal establishment ; 
and his wife, whose talents and virtues I had long 
admired, was admirably qualified to preside in the 
conversation of her table and drawing-room. As 
their friend I was introduced to the best company 
of both sexes ; to the foreign ministers of all 
nations, and to the first names and characters of 
France, who distinguished me by such marks of 
civility and kindness, as gratitude will not suffer 
me to forget, and modesty will not allow me to 
enumerate. The fashionable suppers often broke 



250 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. IX. 

into the morning hours ; yet I occasionally con- 
sulted the Royal Library, and that of the Abbey 
of St. Germain, and in the free use of their books 
at home, I had always reason to praise the liberality 
of those institutions. The society of men of letters 
I neither courted nor declined ; but I was happy 
in the acquaintance of M. de Buffon, who united 
with a sublime genius the most amiable simplicity 
of mind and manners.(2) At the table of my old 
friend, M. de Forcemagne, I was involved in a 
dispute with the Abbe de Mably ; and his jealous 
irascible spirit revenged itself on a work which he 
was incapable of reading in the original. 

As I might be partial in my own cause, I shall 
transcribe the words of an unknown critic, ob- 
serving only, that this dispute had been preceded 
by another on the English constitution at the 
house of the Countess de Froulay, an old Jansenist 
lady. 

" Vous etiez chez M. de Forcemagne, mon cher 
Theodon, le jour que M. l'Abbe de Mably et M. 
Gibbon y dinerent en grande compagnie. La 
conversation roula presque entitlement sur l'his- 
toire. L'Abbe, etant un profond politique, la 
tourna sur l'administration, quand on fut an dessert ; 
et comme par caractcre, par humeur, par l'habitude 
d'admirer Tite Live, il ne prise que le systeme 
republicain, il se mit a vanter l'excellence des 
republiques ; bien persuade que le savant Anglois 
l'approuveroit en tout, et admireroit la profondeur 
de genie qui avoit fait diviner tons ces avantages 
a un Francois. Mais M. Gibbon, iustruit. par 
^experience des inconveniens d'un gouvernement 



CHAP. IX. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. £ 5 1 

populaire, ne fat point du tout de son avis, et il 
prit genereusement la defense du gouvernement 
monarchique. L'Abbe voulut le convaincre par 
Tite Live, et par quelques argumens tires de 
Plutarque en faveur des Spartiates. M. Gibbon, 
doue de la memoire la plus heureuse, et ayant tous 
les faits presens a la pensee, domina bientot la con- 
versation ; l'Abbe se facha, il s'emporta, il dit des 
choses dures ; l'Anglois, conservant le phlegme de 
son pays, prenoit ses avantages, et pressoit l'Abbe 
avec d'autant plus de succes que la colere le 
troubloit de plus en plus. La conversation s'echauf- 
foit, et M. de Forcemagne la rompit en se levant 
de table, et en passant dans le salon, ou personne 
ne fut tente de la renouer." Supplement de la 
Maniere d'ecrire VHistoire, p. 125, &C. 1 

Nearly two years had elapsed between the pub- 
lication of my first and the commencement of my 
second volume ; and the causes must be assigned 
of this long delay. I. After a short holiday, I in- 
dulged my curiosity in some studies of a very dif- 

1 Of the voluminous writings of the Abbe de Mably (see his Eloge 
by the Abbe Brizard), the Principes du droit public de F Europe, and the 
first part of the Observations sur I'Histoire de France, may be deservedly 
praised ; and even the Maniere d'ecrire I'Histoire contains several 
useful precepts and judicious remarks. Mably was a lover of virtue 
and freedom ; but his virtue was austere, and his freedom was impatient 
of an equal. Kings, magistrates, nobles, and successful writers, were 
the objects of his contempt, or hatred, or envy ; but his illiberal abuse 
of Voltaire, Hume, Buffon, the Abbe Reynal, Dr. Robertson, and iutti 
quanti, can be injurious only to himself. 

"Est il rien de plus fastidieux (says the polite Censor) qu'un M. 
Gibbon, qui dans son eternelle Histoire des Empereurs Romains, 
suspend a chaque instant son insipide et lente narration, pour vous 
expliquer la cause des faits que vous allez lire?" (Maniere d'ecrire 
I'Histoire, p. 184. See another passage, p. 280.) Yet I am indebted 
to the Abbe de Mably for two such advocates as the anonymous French 
Critic and my friend Mr. Hayley. (Hayley's Works, 8vo. Edit. Vol. ii. 
p. 261—263.) 



252 MEMOIRS OF ( BAP. IX. 

ferent nature, a course of anatomy, which was 
demonstrated by Doctor Hunter, and some lessons 
of chemistry, wuieh were delivered by Mr. Higgins. 
The principles of these sciences, and a taste for 
books of natural history, contributed to multiply 
my ideas and images ; and the anatomist and 
chemist may sometimes track me in their own 
snow. 2. I dived, perhaps too deeply, into the 
mud of the Arian controversy ; and many days of 
reading, thinking, and writing were consumed in 
the pursuit of a phantom. 3. It is difficult to 
arrange, with order and perspicuity, the various 
transactions of the age of Constantine ; and so 
much was I displeased with the first essay, that I 
committed to the flames above fifty sheets. 4. The 
six months of Paris and pleasure must be deducted 
from the account. But when I resumed my task 
1 felt my improvement ; I was now master of my 
style and subject, and while the measure of my daily 
performance was enlarged, I discovered less reason 
to cancel or correct. It has always been my practice 
to cast a long paragraph in a single mould, to try 
it by my ear, to deposit it in my memory, but to 
suspend the action of the pen till I had given the 
last polish to my work. Shall I add, that I never 
found my mind more vigorous, nor my composition 
more happy, than in the winter hurry of society and 
parliament ? 

Had I believed that the majority of English 
readers were so fondly attached even to the name 
and shadow of Christianity ; had I foreseen that the 
pious, the timid, and the prudent, would feel, or 
affect to feel, with such exquisite sensibility; I 



CHAP. IX. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 253 

might, perhaps, have softened the two invidious 
chapters, which would create many enemies, and 
conciliate few friends. But the shaft was shot, the 
alarm was sounded, and I could only rejoice, that 
if the voice of our priests was clamorous and bitter, 
their hands were disarmed from the powers of per- 
secution. I adhered to the wise resolution of trusting 
myself and my writings to the candour of the public, 
till Mr. Davies of Oxford presumed to attack, not 
the faith, but the fidelity, of the historian. My 
Vindication, expressive of less anger than contempt, 
amused for a moment the busy and idle metropolis; 
and the most rational part of the laity, and even of 
the clergy, appear to have been satisfied of my in- 
nocence and accuracy. (3) I would not print this 
Vindication in quarto, lest it should be bound and 
preserved with the history itself. At the distance 
of twelve years, I calmly affirm my judgment of 
Davies, Chelsum, &c. A victory over such anta- 
gonists was a sufficient humiliation. They however 
were rewarded in this world. Poor Chelsum was 
indeed neglected ; and I dare not boast the making 
Dr. Watson a bishop ; he is a prelate of a large 
mind and liberal spirit 2 : but I enjoyed the pleasure 
of giving a royal pension to Mr. Davies, and of col- 
lating Dr. Apthorpe to an archiepiscopal living.* (4) 
Their success encouraged the zeal of Taylor 3 the 

2 See Appendix, Letters, dated 2d and 4th Nov. 1776; and Jan. 
14th, 1779. 

3 The stupendous title, Thoughts on the Causes of the grand Apos- 
taci/, at first agitated my nerves, till I discovered that it was the apos- 



* M. Suard, who was a good mistake : he has translated an 
English scholar, in his memoir of archiepiscopal living, " la fortune 
Gibbon, has made a whimsical d'un archeveque." — M. 



254 memoirs or chap. ix. 

Arian(5), and Milner the Methodist(6), with many 

others, whom it would be difficult to remember, 
and tedious to rehearse. The list of my adversaries, 
however, was graced with the more respectable names 

of Dr. Priestley, Sir David Dalrymple, and Dr. 
White ; and every polemic, of either university, 
discharged his sermon or pamphlet against the im- 
penetrable silence of the Roman historian. In his 
History of the Corruptions of Christianity, Dr. 
Priestley threw down his two gauntlets to Bishop 
Hurd and Mr. Gibbon. (7) I declined the challenge 
in a letter, exhorting my opponent to enlighten the 
world by his philosophical discoveries 5 , and to re- 
member that the merit of his predecessor Servetus 
is now reduced to a single passage, which indicates 
the smaller circulation of the blood . through the 
lungs, from and to the heart. Instead of listening 
to this friendly advice, the dauntless philosopher of 
Birmingham continued to fire away his double 
battery against those who believed too little, and 
those who believed too much. From my replies 
he has nothing to hope or fear : but his Socinian 
shield has repeatedly been pierced by the mighty 



tacy of the whole church, since the Council of Nice, from Mr. Taylor's 
private religion. His book is a thorough mixture of high enthusiasm 
and low buffoonery, and the Millenium is a fundamental article o\ 
his creed. 

* From his grammar-school at Kingston upon Hull, Mr. Joseph 
Milner pronounces an anathema against all rational religion. His faith 
is a divine taste, a spiritual inspiration; his church is a mystic and 
invisible body ; the natural Christians, such as Mr. Locke, who l>clic\e 
and interpret the Scriptures, are, in Ids judgment, no better than pro- 
fane infidels. 

See Correspondence with Dr. Priestley. Appendix, Letters dated 
23d Jan. to 25th Feb. 1783. 

- Astruc dc la Structure du Cceur, torn. i. 77. 79. 



CHAP. IX. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. Q55 

spear of Horsley, and his trumpet of sedition may 
at length awaken the magistrates of a free country. 

The profession and rank of Sir David Dalrymple 
(now a Lord of Session) has given a more decent 
colour to his style. (8) But he scrutinized each se- 
parate passage of the two chapters with the dry 
minuteness of a special pleader ; and as he was 
always solicitous to make, he may have succeeded 
sometimes in finding, a flaw. In his Annals of 
Scotland, he has shown himself a diligent collector 
and an accurate critic. 

I have praised, and I still praise, the eloquent 
sermons which were preached in St. Mary's pulpit 
at Oxford by Dr. White, (9) If he assaulted me with 
some degree of illiberal acrimony, in such a place, 
and before such an audience, he was obliged to 
speak the language of the country. I smiled at a 
passage in one of his private letters to Mr. Bad- 
cock ; " The part where we encounter Gibbon 
must be brilliant and striking." 

In a sermon preached before the university of 
Cambridge, Dr. Edwards complimented a work, 
" which can only perish with the language itself; " 
and esteems the author a formidable enemy. He 
is, indeed, astonished that more learning and in- 
genuity has not been shown in the defence of 
Israel j that the prelates and dignitaries of the 
church (alas, good man !) did not vie with each 
other, whose stone should sink the deepest in the 
forehead of this Goliah. 

" But the force of truth will oblige us to confess, 
that in the attacks which have been levelled against 
our sceptical historian, we can discover but slender 



Q5G 



MEMOIRS OF 



traces of profound and exquisite erudition, of solid 
criticism and accurate investigation ; but we are 
too frequently disgusted by vague and inconclusive 
reasoning ; by unseasonable banter and senseless 
witticisms ; by imbittered bigotry and enthusiastic 
jargon ; by futile cavils and illiberal invectives. 
Proud and elated by the weakness of his anta- 
gonists, he condescends not to handle the sword of 
controversy. " 7 

Let me frankly own that I was startled at the 
first discharge of ecclesiastical ordinance ; but as 
soon as I found that this empty noise was mis- 
chievous only in the intention, my fear was con- 
verted into indignation ; and every feeling of in- 
dignation or curiosity has long since subsided in 
pure and placid indifference. (10) 

The prosecution of my history was soon after- 
wards checked by another controversy of a very 
different kind. At the request of the Lord Chan- 
cellor 8 , and of Lord Weymouth, then Secretary of 
State, I vindicated, against the French manifesto, 
the justice of the British arms. The whole cor- 
respondence of Lord Stormont, our late ambassador 
at Paris, was submitted to my inspection, and the 
Memoire Justificatifi which I composed in French, 
was first approved by the Cabinet Ministers, and 
then delivered as a state paper to the courts of 
Europe. The style and manner are praised by 
Beaumarchais himself, who, in his private quarrel, 
attempted a reply ; but he Hatters me by ascribing 
the memoir to Lord Stormont ; and the grossness 

7 Monthly Review, Oct. 1790. 
See letter to and from Lord Thurlow, in Appendix. 



CHAP. IX. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 257 

of bis invective betrays the loss of temper and of 
wit ; he acknowledged 9 , that le style ne seroit pas 
sans grace, ni la logique sans justesse, &c. if the 
facts were true which he undertakes to disprove. 
For these facts my credit is not pledged ; I spoke 
as a lawyer from my brief, but the veracity of 
Beaumarchais may be estimated from the assertion 
that France, by the treaty of Paris (1763), was 
limited to a certain number of ships of war. On 
the application of the Duke of Choiseul he was 
obliged to retract this daring falsehood. (11) 

Among the honourable connections which I had 
formed, I may justly be proud of the friendship of 
Mr. "Wedderburne, at that time Attorney General, 
who now illustrates the title of Lord Loughborough, 
and the office of Chief Justice of the Common 
Pleas. By his strong recommendation, and the 
favourable disposition of Lord North, I was ap- 
pointed one of the Lords Commissioners of Trade 
and Plantations ; and my private income was en- 
larged by a clear addition of between seven and 
eight hundred pounds a-year. The fancy of an 
hostile orator may paint, in the strong colours of 
ridicule, " the perpetual virtual adjournment, and 
the unbroken sitting vacation of the Board of 
Trade." 10 But it must be allowed that our duty 
was not intolerably severe, and that I enjoyed 

9 (Euvres de Beaumarchais, torn. iii. p. 299. 355. 

10 I can never forget the delight with which that diffusive and inge- 
nious orator, Mr. Burke, was heard by all sides of the house, and even 
by those whose existence he proscribed. (See Mr. Burke's speech on 
the Bill of Reform, p. 72 — 80.) The Lords of Trade blushed at their 
insignificancy, and Mr. Eden's appeal to the two thousand five hundred 
volumes of our Reports, served only to excite a general laugh. I take 
this opportunity of certifying the correctness of Mr. Burke's printed 
speeches, which I have heard and read. 

S 



258 MEMOIRS OF CHAT. IX. 

many days and weeks of repose without being 
called away from my library to the office. My 
acceptance of a place provoked some of the leaders 
of opposition, with whom I had lived in habits of 
intimacy (12) ; and I was most unjustly accused 
of deserting a party, in which I had never en- 
listed. (13) 

The aspect of the next session of parliament 
was stormy and perilous ; county meetings, pe- 
titions, and committees of correspondence, an- 
nounced the public discontent ; and instead of 
voting with a triumphant majority, the friends of 
government were often exposed to a struggle and 
sometimes to a defeat. The House of Commons 
adopted Mr. Dunning's motion, " That the influ- 
ence of the Crown had increased, was increasing, 
and ought to be diminished : " and Mr. Burke's 
bill of reform was framed with skill, introduced 
with eloquence, and supported by numbers. Our 
late president, the American Secretary of State, 
very narrowly escaped the sentence of proscrip- 
tion ; but the unfortunate Board of Trade was 
abolished in the committee by a small majority 
(207 to 199) of eight votes. The storm, however, 
blew over for a time ; a large defection of country 
gentlemen eluded the sanguine hopes of the pa- 
triots ; the Lords of Trade were revived ; admi- 
nistration recovered their strength and spirit ; and 
the flames of London, which were kindled by a 
mischievous madman*, admonishedall thinking men 
of the danger of an appeal to the people. In the 
premature dissolution which followed this session 
* Lord George Gordon, 



CHAP. IX. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 25$ 

of parliament I lost my seat. Mr. Elliot was now 
deeply engaged in the measures of opposition, and 
the electors of Leskeard 11 are commonly of the 
same opinion as Mr. Elliot. 

In this interval of my senatorial life, I published 
the second and third volumes of the Decline and 
Fall. My ecclesiastical history still breathed the 
same spirit of freedom ; but protestant zeal is more 
indifferent to the characters and controversies of 
the fourth and fifth centuries. My obstinate si- 
lence had damped the ardour of the polemics. Dr. 
Watson, the most candid of my adversaries, assured 
me that he had no thoughts of renewing the attack, 
and my impartial balance of the virtues and vices 
of Julian was generally praised. This truce was 
interrupted only by some animadversions of the 
Catholics of Italy, and by some angry letters from 
Mr. Travis, who made me personally responsible 
for condemning, with the best critics, the spurious 
text of the three heavenly witnesses. 

The piety or prudence of my Italian translator 
has provided an antidote against the poison of his 
original. The 5th and 7th volumes are armed 
with five letters from an anonymous divine to his 
friends, Foothead and Kirk, two English students 
at Rome ; and this meritorious service is commended 
by Monsignor Stonor, a prelate of the same nation, 
who discovers much venom in the Jluid and nervous 
style of Gibbon. The critical essay at the end 
of the third volume was furnished by the Ab- 
bate Nicola Spedalieri, whose zeal has gradually 
swelled to a more solid confutation in two quarto 

1 ' The borough which Mr. Gibbon had represented in parliament. 

s 2 



C2G0 



MEMOIRS OF 



volumes. — Shall I be excused for not having read 

them ? * 

The brutal insolence of Mr. Travis's challenge can 
only be excused by the absence of learning, judg- 
ment, and humanity; and to that excuse he has the 
fairest or foulest pretension. Compared with Arch- 
deacon Travis, Chelsum and Davies assume the 
title of respectable enemies. 

The bigoted advocate of popes and monks may 
be turned over even to the bigots of Oxford ; and 
the wretched Travis still smarts under the lash of 
the merciless Porson. I consider Mr. Porson's an- 
swer to Archdeacon Travis as the most acute and 
accurate piece of criticism which has appeared 
since the days of Bentley. His strictures are 
founded in argument, enriched with learning, and 
enlivened with wit ; and his adversary neither de- 
serves nor finds any quarter at his hands. The evi- 
dence of the three heavenly witnesses would now 
be rejected in any court of justice : but prejudice 
is blind, authority is deaf, and our vulgar bibles 
will ever be polluted by this spurious text, " sedet 
ceternumque sedebit" The more learned ecclesias- 
tics will indeed have the secret satisfaction of re- 
probating in the closet what they read in the 
church. 

I perceived, and without surprise, the coldness 
and even prejudice of the town; nor could a whis- 
per escape my ear, that, in the judgment of many 



* I have observed in the Preface Ieian ; and on enquiry, I cannot 

to ilic History that I never could find any London bookseller, nol 

find this translation. It is not in even Mr. Kvans, who ever saw the 

the British Museum or the Bod- book, — M, 



CHAP, IX. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. Q(j\ 

readers, my continuation was much inferior to the 
original attempts. An author who cannot ascend 
will always appear to sink : envy was now pre- 
pared for my reception, and the zeal of my religi- 
ous, was fortified by the motive of my political, 
enemies. Bishop Newton, in writing his own life, 
was at full liberty to declare how much he himself 
and two eminent brethren were disgusted by Mr. 
Gibbon's prolixity, tediousness, and affectation. But 
the old man should not have indulged his zeal in a 
false and feeble charge against the historian (14), who 
had faithfully and even cautiously rendered Dr. 
Burnett's meaning by the alternative of sleep or re- 
pose. That philosophic divine supposes, that, in 
the period between death and the resurrection, 
human souls exist without a body, endowed with 
internal consciousness, but destitute of all active 
or passive connection with the external world. 
" Secundum communem dictionem sacrse scripturae, 
mors dicitur somnus, et morientes dicuntur obdor- 
mire, quod innuere mihi videtur statum mortis esse 
statum quietis, silentii, et aspytxa-iag." {T>e Statu 
Mortuorum ch. v. p. 98-) 

I was however encouraged by some domestic 
and foreign testimonies of applause ; and the se- 
cond and third volumes insensibly rose in sale and 
reputation to a level with the first. But the pub- 
lic is seldom wrong ; and I am inclined to believe 
that, especially in the beginning, they are more 
prolix and less entertaining than the first ; my ef- 
forts had not been relaxed by success, and I had 
rather deviated into the opposite fault of minute 
and superfluous diligence. On the Continent, my 
s 3 



262 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. IX. 

name and writings were slowly diffused : a French 
translation of the first volume had disappointed 
the booksellers of Paris ; and a passage in the 
third was construed as a personal reflection on the 
reigning monarch. 12 

Before I could apply for a seat at the general 
election the list was already full ; but Lord North's 
promise was sincere, his recommendation was ef- 
fectual, and I was soon chosen on a vacancy for 
the borough of Lymington, in Hampshire. In 
the first session of the new parliament, administra- 
tion stood their ground; their final overthrow was 
reserved for the second. The American war had 
once been the favourite of the country : the pride 
of England was irritated by the resistance of her 
colonies, and the executive power was driven by 
national clamour into the most vigorous and coer- 
cive measures. But the length of a fruitless con- 
test, the loss of armies, the accumulation of debt 
and taxes, and the hostile confederacy of France, 
Spain, and Holland, indisposed the public to the 
American war, and the persons by whom it was 
conducted ; the representatives of the people fol- 
lowed, at a slow distance, the changes of their 
opinion ; and the ministers, who refused to bend, 
were broken by the tempest. As soon as Lord 
North had lost, or was about to lose, a majority in 

'- It may not be generally known that Louis the Sixteenth is a great 
reader, and a reader of English books. On perusing a passage of niv 
History which seems to compare him to Arcadius or Honorius, he ex- 
pressed his resentment to the Prince of B*****, from whom the in- 
telligence was conveyed to me, I shall neither disclaim the allusion] 
nor examine the likeness ; but the situation ofthe late King of Franca 
excludes all suspicion of flattery ; and I am ready to declare that the 

concluding observations of my third volume were written before his ae- 
cession to the throne. 



CHAP. IX. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. Q(j3 

the House of Commons, he surrendered his office, 
and retired to a private station, with the tranquil 
assurance of a clear conscience and a cheerful tem- 
per : the old fabric was dissolved, and the posts of 
government were occupied by the victorious and 
veteran troops of opposition. The lords of trade 
were not immediately dismissed, but the board it- 
self was abolished by Mr. Burke's bill, which de- 
cency had compelled the patriots to revive ; and I 
was stripped of a convenient salary, after having 
enjoyed it about three years. 

So flexible is the title of my History, that the 
final sera might be fixed at my own choice : and I 
long hesitated whether I should be content with 
the three volumes, the fall of the Western empire, 
which fulfilled my first engagement with the 
public. In this interval of suspense, nearly a 
twelvemonth, I returned by a natural impulse to 
the Greek authors of antiquity ; I read with new 
pleasure the Iliad and the Odyssey, the Histories 
of Herodotus, Thucydides, and Xenophon, a large 
portion of the tragic and comic theatre of Athens, 
and many interesting dialogues of the Socratic 
school. Yet in the luxury of freedom I began to 
wish for the daily task, the active pursuit, which 
gave a value to every book, and an object to every 
inquiry : the preface of a new edition announced 
my design, and I dropped without reluctance from 
the age of Plato to that of Justinian. The ori- 
ginal texts of Procopius and Agathias supplied 
the events and even the characters of his reign ; 
but a laborious winter was devoted to the Codes, 
the Pandects, and the modern interpreters, before 
s 4 



'Jlil MEMOIRS 01 CHAP. IX. 

I presumed to form an abstract of the civil law. 
My skill was improved by practice, my diligence 
perhaps was quickened by the loss of office ; and, 
excepting the last chapter, I had finished the 
fourth volume before I sought a retreat on the 
banks of the Leman Lake. 

It is not the purpose of this narrative to expa- 
tiate on the public or secret history of the times : 
the schism which followed the death of the Mar- 
quis of Rockingham, the appointment of the Earl 
of Shelburne, the resignation of Mr. Fox, and his 
famous coalition with Lord North. But I may- 
assert with some degree of assurance, that in their 
political conflict those great antagonists had never 
felt any personal animosity to each other, that their 
reconciliation was easy and sincere, and that their 
friendship has never been clouded by the shadow 
of suspicion or jealousy. The most violent or venal 
of their respective followers embraced this fair oc- 
casion of revolt, but their alliance still commanded 
a majority in the House of Commons ; the peace 
was censured, Lord Shelburne resigned, and the 
two friends knelt on the same cushion to take the 
oath of secretary of state. From a principle of 
gratitude I adhered to the coalition ; my vote was 
counted in the day of battle, but I was overlooked 
in the division of the spoil. There were many 
claimants more deserving and importunate than 
myself: the board of trade could not be restored ; 
and, while the list of places was curtailed, the 
number of candidates was doubled. An easy dis- 
mission to a secure seat at the board of customs or 
excise was promised on the first vacancy : but the 



CHAP. IX. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. QGo 

chance was distant and doubtful ; nor could I so- 
licit with much ardour an ignoble servitude, which 
would have robbed me of the most valuable of 
my studious hours 13 : at the same time the tumult 
of London, and the attendance on parliament, 
were grown more irksome ; and, without some ad- 
ditional income, I could not long or prudently 
maintain the style of expense to which I was ac- 
customed. 



NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 

No. 1. page 249. 
In a letter to Mr. Holroyd, Gibbon describes his life at Paris : — 

Edward Gibbon, Esq. to J. Holroyd, Esq. 

I will try to convey, in a few words, a general idea of my situation as 
a man of the world, and as a man of letters. You remember that the 
Neckers were my principal dependance : and the reception which I 
have met with from them very far surpassed my most sanguine expec- 
tations. I do not indeed lodge in their house (as it might incite the 
jealousy of the husband, and procure me a lettre de cachet), but I live 



13 About the same time, it being in contemplation to send a secretary 
of embassy to Paris, Mr. Gibbon was a competitor for that office. ( See 
Letter to and from Lord Thurlow.) The credit of being distinguished, 
and stopped by government when he was leaving England, the salary 
of 1200/. a-year, the society of Paris, and the hope of a future provision 
for life, disposed him to renounce, though with much reluctance, an 
agreeable scheme on the point of execution ; to engage, without ex- 
perience, in a scene of business which he never liked; to give himself 
a master, or at least a principal, of an unknown, perhaps an unamiable 
character : to which might be added, the danger of the recal of the 
ambassador, or the change of ministry. Mr. Anthony Storer was pre- 
ferred. Mr. Gibbon was somewhat indignant at the preference ; but 
he never knew that it was the act of his friend Mr. Fox, contrary to 
the solicitations of Mr. Craufurd, and other of his friends. — S. 



206' memoirs or my life and writings. 

very much with thcin, and dine and sup whenever they have company. 
which is almost every day, and whenever I like it, for they are not in 
the least exigeans. Mr. Walpole gave me an introduction to Madame 
du Defiand, an agreeable young lady of eighty-two years of age, who 
has constant suppers, and the best company in Paris. When you see 
the Duke of Richmond, he will give you an account of that house, 
where I meet him almost every evening. Ask him about Madame 
de Cambis. I have met the Duke of Choiseul at his particular request, 
dined by accident with Franklin, conversed with the Emperor, been 
presented at court, and gradually, or rather rapidly, I find my acquaint- 
ance spreading over the most valuable parts of Paris. They pretend 
to like me, and whatever you may think of French professions, I am 
convinced that some at least are sincere. On the other hand, I feel 
myself easy and happy in their company, and only regret that I did not 
come over two or three months sooner. Though Paris throughout the 
summer promises me a very agreeable society, yet I am hurt every day 
by the departure of men and women whom I begin to know with some 
familiarity, the departure of officers for their governments and garrisons, 
of bishops for their dioceses, and even of country gentlemen for their 
estates, as a rural taste gains ground in this country. So much for the 
general idea of my acquaintance ; details would be endless, yet un- 
satisfactory. You may add to the pleasures of society those of the 
spectacles and promenades, and you will find that I lead a very agreeable 
life; let me just condescend to observe, that it is not extravagant. 
After decking myself out with silks and silver, the ordinary establishment 
of coach, lodging, servants, eating, and pocket expenses, does not exceed 
sixty pounds per month. Yet I have two footmen in handsome 
liveries behind my coach, and my apartment is hung with damask. 
Adieu for the present : I have more to say, but were I to attempt any 
farther progress, you must wait another post ; and you have already 
waited long enough, of all conscience. 

Let me just in two words give you an idea of my day. I am now 
going (nine o'clock) to the King's library, where I shall stay till 
twelve ; as soon as T. am dressed, I set out to dine with the Duke de 
Nivernois : shall go from thence to the French comedy, into the 
Princess de Beauvcau's loge grillee, and cannot quite determine whether 
I shall sup at Madame du DcfFand's, Madame Necker's, or the Sar- 
dinian Ambassadress's. Once more adieu. 

I subjoin the passages from Madame du Dcffand's letters, in which 
she describes the impression made by the person, the manners, the 
conversation, ami the history of Gibbon : — 

Je suis foit contcnte dc M. Gibbon. Depuis huit jours qu'il est 
arrive, je l'ai VU presque tons les jours: il a la conversation facile, 
parle ties bien Francois ; j'espere qu'il me sera de grande rcssource. Le 
grand-papa (le Due dc Choiseul) a bcaucoup de curiosite de le voir : il 



CHAP. IX. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. QC)J 

a lu ce qu'on a traduit de son histoire, il en est charme, et doit vcnir 
demain chez moi ; j'ai pris mes mesures qu'il y trouve M. Gibbon. 
— Lettre cclxxv. vol. iii. p. 260. 

Je ne vous ai point repondu sur M. Gibbon, — j'ai tort : je lui crois 
beaucoup d'esprit, sa conversation est facile et forte de c/ioses, comnie 
disoit Fontenelle ; il me plait beaucoup, d'autant plus qu'il ne m'cm- 
barrasse pas. Je me flatte qu'il est content de moi, c'est a dire, qu'il me 
sait gre de la satisfaction que je lui marque de causer avec lui ; je ne 
m'embarrasse nullement de ce qu'il pense de mon esprit : il me suffit qu'il 
ne me trouve pas le ridicule d'y pretendre. — Lettre cclxxvi. p. 266. 

Je m'accommode de plus en plus de M. Gibbon, c'est veritablcment 
un homme d'esprit; tons les tons lui sont faciles ; il est aussi Francois 
ici que MM. de Choiseul, de Beauveau, &c. — Lettre cclxxvii. p. 270. 
Je voudrois bien qu'il restat toujours ici. — p. 274. 
Je fus hier souper a l'Auteuil chez l'ldole : j'y menai M. Gibbon ; je 
suis toujours contente de son esprit, mais il est pour les beaux esprits 
comme etoit Achille pour les couteaux, quand il etoit chez je ne sais 
quel roi. II est alle aujourd'hui au Moulin Joli avec M. Thomas. Je 
lui rends justice ; on sent moins avec lui qu'avec tout autre qu'il est un 
auteur. — Lettre cclxxx. vol. iii. p. 278. 

Mais je vous dis al'oreille que je ne le suis point de Pouvrage de M. 
Gibbon ; il est declamatoire, oratoire ; c'est le ton de nos beaux esprits ; 
il n'y a que des ornemens, de la parure, du clinquant, et point du fond ; 
je n'en suis qu'a la moitie du premier volume, qui est le tiers de l'in- 
quarto, a la mort de Pertinax. Je quitte cette lecture sans peine, et il 
me faut un petit effort pour le repeindre. Je trouve l'auteur assez 
aimable, mais il a, si je ne me trompe, une grande ambition de la 
celebrite : il brigue a force ouverte la faveur de tous nos beaux esprits, 
et il me paroit qu'il se trompe souvent aux jugemens qu'il en porte. 
Dans la conversation il veut briiler, et prendre le ton qu'il croit le notre, 
et il y reussit assez bien ; il est doux et poli, et je le crois bon homme; 
je serois fort aise d'avoir plusieurs connoissances comme lui, car a tout 
prendre, il est superieur a, presque tous les gens avec qui je vis. — Lettre 
cclxxxi. p. 287. 

M. Gibbon a ici le plus grand succes ; on se l'arrache ; il se conduit 
fort bien, et sans avoir, je crois, autant d'esprit que feu M. Hume ; il 
ne tombe pas dans les memes ridicules. Je ne sais pas si tous les 
jugemens qu'il porte sont bien justes ; mais il se comporte d'une maniere 
qui ne donne point de prises aux ridicules ; ce qui est fort difficile a 
eviter dans les societes qu'il frequente. — Lettre cclxxxiv. p. 295. 

Pour M. Gibbon c'est un homme tres raisonnable, qui a beaucoup de 
conversation, infiniment de savoir, vous y ajouteriez, peut-etre infiniment 
d'esprit, et peut-etre auriez-vous raison ; je ne suis pas decidee sur cet 
article. II fait trop de cas de nos agremens, trop de desir de les acquerir : 
j'ai toujours eu sur le bout de la langue de lui dire, "Ne vous tourmentez 
pas, vous meritez l'honneur d'etre Francois." En mon particulier j'ai 
eu toutes sortes de sujets d'etre contente de lui, et il est tres vrai que 



268 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 

son depart me fache beaucoup; dites lui bien, quarul vous le verrez, 
queje o'al cesse* de vous parler de luL 

Of the Neckers, Madame du Deffand thus ex presses herself: " Le 
man a beaucoup d'esprit ct dc verite ; la femme est roide et froide, 
pleine d'amour-propre, mais honnete personne." — Madame du Deffand, 
lettre ccxlv. vol. iii. p. 137. — M. 



No. 2. page 250. 

M. Buffon a M. Gibbon. 

Ce 25 Oct. I ; 
Je rccois, Monsieur, comme une marque precieuse de votre estime 
et de votre amide cet excellent ouvrage que je ne connoissois que par 
la traduction ; je le lirai avec tout l'empressement que me donnent les 
sentimens que vous m'avez inspire. J'ai souvent admire dans la con- 
versation les traits de genie que j'aurai le plaisir de voir dans tout son 
developpement. Recevrez mes remercimens, Monsieur, et les tendres 
adieux d ? un homme qui vous respecte et vous aime autant et plus qu'il 
ne peut vous l'exprimer. 

Buffon. 

No. 3. page 253. 

It is remarkable that, in the midst of the indignation of the better 
part of the community at the publication of the first volumes of the 
Decline and Fall, the more distinguished theological writers of the 
country stood aloof, while the first ranks were filled by rash and feeble 
volunteers. Gibbon, with a single discharge from his ponderous ar- 
tillery of learning and sarcasm, laid prostrate the whole disorderly 
squadron. The Davises, the Chelsums, and the Travises shrunk back 
into their former insignificance. Their plan of attack was as misjudg- 
ing as their conduct of it was imbecile. With a very slender stock of 
learning, hurried together for the occasion, they ventured to impeach 
the accuracy, and to condemn the false quotations, of a scholar whose 
mind was thoroughly saturated with every kind of knowledge which 
could bear upon the subject; and they could only make up in spleen 
and intemperance for their lamentable deficiency in all the true quali- 
fications for defenders of Christianity. — M. in Quarterly Review, 
Vol. L. p. 293. 

Dr. Whitaker, in the former article in the Quarterly Review, ob- 
serves, " With such powers of entertainment and mischief as Gibbon 
possessed, it was matter of serious complaint that the cause of revela- 
tion and morality should have fallen into such hands as those of Travis, 
Chclsum, and Davis." — Quarterly Review, Yol.L. p. 388. 

Johnson seems to have kept aloof even from expressing an opinion 
on the controversy. Dr. Percy one day, rather maliciously, led the 



CHAP. IX. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. %QQ 

conversation to the applause of Gibbon's " Reply to Davis," with 
which the town rang ; that the " latter had written before he read ;" and 
that the two confederate doctors, as Mr. Gibbon termed them, "Jiad fallen 
into some strange errors." Johnson said he knew nothing of Davis's 
pamphlet, nor would he give him any answer as to Gibbon ; but if the 
" confederate doctors, as they were termed, had really made such 
mistakes, they were blockheads." — Croker's Boswell, vol. iv. p. 13G. 
— M. 

No. 4. page 253. 

A sketch of the life and works of Dr. Apthorpe may be found in 
Nicholls's Literary Anecdotes, vol.iii. p. 94. The Letters of Dr. Ap- 
thorpe were only preliminary to the controversy with Gibbon. In 
fact, he only published a kind of introduction to his reply, which had 
no reference to Gibbon. He was certainly amply remunerated for his 
good intentions. 

" When Mr. Apthorpe's Letters appeared, I was surprised to find, 
that I had scarcely any interest or concern in their contents. They are 
filled with general observations on the study of History, with a large 
and useful catalogue of Historians, and with a variety of reflections, 
moral and religious, all preparatory to the direct and formal con- 
sideration of my two last chapters, which Mr. Apthorpe seems to 
reserve for the subject of a second volume. I sincerely respect the 
learning, the piety, and the candour of this gentleman, and must con- 
sider it as a mark of his esteem, that he has thought proper tobegin 
his approaches at so great a distance from the fortifications which he 
designed to attack." — Vindic. Miscell. Works, vol. iv. p. 596. — M. 

No. 5. page 254. 
The Rev. Henry Taylor was rector of Crawley, Hants, and vicar of 
Portsmouth. He published several works ; among others,'anonymously, 
the Apology of Ben Mordecai to his friends for embracing Christianity. 
See Nicholls's Lit. Anec. vol. iii. p. 122. — M. 

No. 6. page 254. 
Milner's answer to Gibbon was reprinted at Lincoln, in 1808. 
Milner treats the talents and erudition of Gibbon with more respect 
than many of his antagonists, whose religious temperament was less 
ardent. Milner's History of the Church enjoys an extensive popularity 
with a considerable class of readers, who are content to accept fervent 
piety and an accordance with their own religious views, instead of 
the profound original research, the various erudition and dispassionate 
judgment which more rational Christians consider indispensable to an 
historian. In his answer to Gibbon, Milner unfortunately betrays the 
incapacity of his mind for historical criticism ; when he enters into 
detail, it is m general on indefensible points, like the Spanish inscrip- 



l 270 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 

tion about Nero's persecution, lorn: abandoned by all sound Bcholars. 
— M. 

No. 7. page 254. 
[Although Dr. Priestley may not be justified for publishing the follow- 
ing letters, yet as he thought fit to print them with a volume of 
sermons soon after Mr. Gibbon's death, it will not be improper to 
insert them in this collection. — S.] 

Mr. Gibbon to Dr. Priestley. 

Sir, January 23d, 1783. 

As a mark of your esteem, I should have accepted with pleasure 
your History of the Corruptions of Christianity. You have been care- 
ful to inform me, that it is intended, not as a gift, but as a challenge, 
and such a challenge you must permit me to decline. At the same 
time you glory in outstripping the zeal of the Mufti and the Lama, it 
may be proper to declare, that I should equally refuse the defiance of 
those venerable divines. Once, and once only, the just defence of my 
own veracity provoked me to descend into the amphitheatre ; but as 
long as you attack opinions which I have never maintained, or main- 
tain principles which I have never denied, you may safely exult in my 
silence and your own victory. The difference between us, (on the 
credibility of miracles,) which you choose to suppose, and wish to 
argue, is a trite and ancient topic of controversy, and, from the opinion 
which you entertain of yourself and of me, it does not appear pro- 
bable that our dispute would either edify or enlighten the public. 

That public will decide to whom the invidious name of unbeliever 
more justly belongs ; to the historian, who, without interposing his 
own sentiments, has delivered a simple narrative of authentic facts, or 
to the disputant who proudly rejects all natural proofs of the immor- 
tality of the soul, overthrows (by circumscribing) the inspiration of the 
evangelists and apostles, and condemns the religion of every Christian 
nation, as a fable less innocent, but not less absurd than Mahomet's 
journey to the third heaven. 

And now, Sir, since you assume a right to determine the objects of my 
past and future studies, give me leave to convey to your ear the almost 
unanimous, and not offensive wish, of the philosophic world — that you 
would confine your talents and industry to those sciences in which real 
and useful improvements can be made. Remember the end of your prede- 
cessor, Servetus, not of his life, (the Cabins of our days are restrained 
from the use of the same fiery arguments,) but, 1 mean, the end of his re- 
putation. His theological writings are lost in oblivion ; and if his book 
on the Trinity be still preserved, it is onlj because it contains the first 
rudiments of the discovery of the circulation of the blood. 

I am, Sir, your obedient humble servant. 



CHAP. IX. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 271 

Dr. Priestley to Mr. Gibbon. 

Sir, Birmingham, 3d February, 1763. 

It would have been impertinent in me, especially considering the 
object of my History, to have sent you a copy of it as a mark of my 
esteem or friendship. What I meant was to act the part of a fair and 
open adversary, and I am truly sorry that you decline the discussion I 
proposed: for though you are of a different opinion, I do not think 
that either of us could be better employed ; and, should the Mufti and 
the Lama, whose challenge, you say, you would also decline, become 
parties in the business, I should rejoice the more. I do not well know 
what you can mean by intimating, that I am a greater unbeliever than 
yourself; that I attack opinions which you never maintained, and 
maintain principles which you never denied. If you mean to assert, 
that you are a believer in Christianity, and meant to recommend it, I 
must say, that your mode of writing has been very ill adapted to gain 
your purpose. If there be any certain method of discovering a man's 
real object, yours has been to discredit Christianity in fact, while in 
words you represent yourself as a friend to it : a conduct which I 
scruple not to call highly unworthy and mean ; an insult on the common 
sense of the Christian world ; as a method of screening you from the 
notice of the law, (which is as hostile to me as it is to you,) you must 
know that it could avail you nothing ; and though that mode of writing 
might be deemed ingenious and witty in the first inventor of it, it has 
been too often repeated to deserve that appellation now. 

According to your own rule of conduct, this charge ought to provoke 
you to descend into the amphitheatre once more, as much as the ac- 
cusation of Mr. Davis : for it is a call upon you to defend, not your 
principles only, but also your honour. For what can reflect greater dis- 
honour on a man, than to say one thing and mean another ? You 
have certainly been very far from confining yourself) as you pretend, to 
a simple narrative of authentic facts, without interposing your own 
sentiments. I hold no opinions, obnoxious as they are, that I am not 
ready both to avow in the most explicit manner, and also to defend 
with any person of competent judgment and ability. Had I not con- 
sidered you in this light, and also as fairly open, by the strain of your 
writings, to such a challenge, I should not have called upon you as I 
have done. The public will form its own judgment both of that and of 
your silence on the occasion ; and finally decide between you, the 
humble historian, and me, the proud disputant. 

As to my reputation, for which you are so very obligingly concerned, 
give me leave to observe, that, as far as it is an object with any person, 
and a thing to be enjoyed by himself, it must depend upon his particular 
notions and feelings. — Now, odd as it will appear to you, the esteem 
of a very few rational Christian friends (though I know that it will 
ensure me the detestation of the greater part of the present nominally 
Christian world that happen to hear me) gives me more real satisfac- 
tion, than the applause of what you call the philosophic world. I ad- 



272 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 

mire ServetUS, In whose example you wish me to take warning, more 
for lii- courage in dying for the cause of important truth, than I should 
have done if. besides the certain discovery of the circulation of the 
blood, he had made any other the most celebrated discovery in phi- 
losophy. 

However, I do not see what my philosophical friends (of whom I 
have many, and whom I think I value as I ought) have to do with my 
metaphysical or theological writings. They may, if they please, con- 
sider them as my particular whims or amusements, and accordingly 
neglect them. They have, in fact, interfered very little with my applica- 
tion to philosophy, since I have had the means of doing it. I was never 
more busy, or more successfully so, in my philosophical pursuits, than 
during the time that I have been employed about the History of the 
Corruptions of Christianity. I am at this very time totiu in Mis, as my 
friends know ; and as the Public will know in due time, which with me 
is never long ; and if you had thought proper to enter into the discussion 
I proposed, it would not have made me neglect my laboratory, or omit 
a single experiment that I should otherwise have made. 
I am, Sir, 

Your very humble servant, 

J. Priestlky. 

Mr. Gibbon to Dr. Priestley. 
Sir, Bentinck-street, February Gth, 1783. 

Asldo not pretendto judge of the sentiments or intentions of another, 
I shall not inquire how far you are inclined to suffer, or inflict, martyr- 
dom. It only becomes me to say, that the style and temper of your lust 
letter have satisfied me of the propriety of declining all further corre- 
spondence, whether public or private, with such an adversary. I am, 
Sir, your humble servant. 

Dr. Priestley to Mr. Gibbon. 
Sir, Birmingham, February 10th, 17S3. 

I neither requested nor wished to have any private correspondence 
with you. All that my MS. card required, was a simple acknowledg- 
ment of the receipt of the copy of my work. You chose, however, to 
give me a specimen of your temper and feelings ; and also, what 1 
thought to be an opening to a further call upon you for a justification 
of yourself in public. Of this I was willing to take advantage; and at 
the same time, to satisfy you, that my philosophical pursuits, lor which, 
whether in earnest or not, you were pleased to express some concern, 
would not be interrupted in consequence of it. 

As this correspondence, from the origin and nature of it, cannot 
he deemed confidential, I nun, especial^ if I resume my observations 
on your conduct as an Historian, give the Public an opportunity of 
judging of the propriety of my answer to your first extraordinary letter, 
and also to this last truly enigmatical one j to interpret which requires 
much more Bagacity, than to discover your real intentions with respect 



CHAP. IX. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 273 

to Christianity, though you might think you had carefully concealed 
them from all human inspection. 

Wishing to hear from you just as little as you please in private, and 
just as much as you please in public, I am, Sir, your humble servant. 

Mr. Gibbon to Dr. Priestley. 

February 22d, 1783. 
If Dr. Priestley consults his friends, he will probably learn, that a 
single copy of a paper, addressed under a seal to a single person, and not 
relative to any public or official business, must always be considered as 
private correspondence ; which a man of honour is not at liberty to print 
without the consent of the writer. That consent in the present in- 
stance, Air. Gibbon thinks proper to withhold ; and, as he desires to 
escape all further altercation, he shall not trouble Dr. Priestley or 
himself with explaining the motives of his refusal. 

Dr. Priestley to Mr. Gibbon. 

Birmingham, 25th February, 1783. 

Dr. Priestley is as unwilling to be guilty of any real impropriety as 
Mr. Gibbon can wish him to be : but, as the correspondence between 
them relates not to any private, but only to a public matter, he appre- 
hends that it may, according to Mr. Gibbon's own distinction, at the 
pleasure of either of the parties be laid before the public ; who, in fact, 
are interested to know, at least, the result of it. Dr. Priestley's con- 
duct will always be open to animadversion, that of Mr. Gibbon, or of 
any other person. His appeal is to men of honour, and even men of 
the world; and he desires no favour. 

Dr. Priestley has sent a single copy of the correspondence to a friend 
in London, with leave to show it to any other common friends, but 
with a prohibition to take any other copy : but between this andprinting 
there is no difference, except in mode and extent. In the eye of the 
law and of reason both are equally publications; and has Mr. Gibbon 
never thought himself at liberty to show a copy of a letter to a third 
person ? 

Mr. Gibbon may easily escape all further altercation by discontinuing 
this mutually disagreeable correspondence, by leaving Dr. Priestley to 
act as his own discretion' or indiscretion may dictate ; and for this, 
himself only, and not Mr. Gibbon, is responsible. 

[The pertinacity of Priestley in endeavouring to force Gibbon into a 
controversy, shows as little wisdom as courtesy ; on the other hand, 
it would be ludicrous, if it were not offensive, to find Gibbon taunting 
Priestley with heretical opinions, and appealing to that vulgar and 
irrational feeling, which would hate the imperfect Christianity of 
Priestley as cordially as complete infidelity. — M.] 



•j; I MEMOIRS <)F MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 

N->. B. p ige --'.'I. 
The work of Sir David Dalrymple has been of more use to the 
present editor than any of the replies. — M. 

No. f). page 255. 

The manufacture of these Sermons is a most curious instance of 
literary copartnership, and I fear it must be added, with regard to him 
who appropriated the fame and the reward of these celehrated lectures, 
of literary dishonesty. The parts which belong respectively to Dr. 
White, to Dr. Badcock, and to Dr. Parr, may now be easily assigned 
by those who are curious in such points of literary history. See the 
pamphlets by Gabriel and White, and Parr's works, vol. vii. — M. 

No. 10. page 256. 

It may not be unuseful to give in this place the titles at least, of 
the principal writings which Gibbon's bold and disingenuous attack on 
Christianity called forth. These were, I. " Remarks on the Two last 
Chapters of Mr. Gibbon's History. In a Letter to a Friend." (See 
Art. 8.) II. " An Apology for Christianity, in a Series of Letters 
addressed to Edward Gibbon, Esq. By R. Watson, D. D. F.R.S. 
and Regius Professor of Divinity in the University of Cambridge (now 
Bishop of Llandany)"12mo. 1776. III. " The History of the^ Estab- 
lishment of Christianity, compiled from Jewish and Heathen Authors 
only. Translated from the French of Professor Bullet, &c. By 
William Salisbury, B. D. With Notes by the Translator, and some 
Strictures on Mr. Gibbon's Account of Christianity, and its First 
Teachers,''' 8vo. 1776. IV. " A Reply to the Reasonings of Mr. 
Gibbon in his History, &c which seem to affect the Truth of 
Christianity, but have not been noticed in the Answer which Dr. 
Watson hath given to that Book. By Smyth Loftus, M. A. Vicar of 
Coolock," Svo. Dublin, 1778. V. " Letters on the Prevalence of 
Christianity, before its Civil Establishment. With Observations on a 
late History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. By East 
Apthorpe, M. A. Vicar of Croydon," Svo. 1778. VI. " An Examina- 
tion of the Fifteenth and Sixteenth Chapters of Mr. Gibbon's History, 
in which his View of the Progress of the Christian Religion is shown 
to be founded on the Misrepresentation of the Authors he cites j and 
numerous Instances of his Inaccuracy and Plagiarism arc produced. 
l',\ Henry Edward Davies, B.A. of Baliol College, Oxford," 8vo. 1778. 
VII. " A few Remarks on the History of the Decline and Fall of the 
Roman Empire. Relative chiefly to the Two last Chapters. By a Gen- 
tleman," 8vo. VIII. "Remarks on the Two last Chapters of Mr, 
Gibbon's History. By James Chelsum, D.D. Student of Christ Church, 
< Ktord, ami Chaplain to the Lord Bishop of Worcester. The Second 



CHAP. IX. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. j;.") 

Edition enlarged," 12mo. 1778. This is a second edition of the ano- 
nymous remarks mentioned in the first article, and contains additional 
remarks by Dr. Randolph, Lady Margaret's professor of Divinity in the 
University of Oxford. 

Mr. Gibbon's Vindication now appeared under the title of " A Vin- 
dication of some Passages in the Fifteenth and Sixteenth Chapters of 
the History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. By the 
Author," 8vo. 1779. This was immediately followed by, I. " A Short 
Appeal to the Public. By a Gentleman who is particularly addressed 
in the Postscript of the Vindication," 8vo. 1779-1780. II. "A Reply 
to Mr. Gibbon's Vindication, wherein the Charges brought against him 
in the Examination are confirmed, and further instances given of his 
Misrepresentation, Inaccuracy, and Plagiarism. By Henry Edward 
Davies, B. A. of Baliol College, Oxford." Svo. 178o! III. " A Reply 
to Mr. Gibbon's Vindication, &c. containing a Review of the Errors 
still retained in these Chapters. By James Chelsum, D. D. &c." 8vo. 
1785. 

The other most considerable works levelled at the history, upon 
general principles, were, I. " Thoughts on the Nature of the grand 
Apostacy, with Reflections and Observations on the Fifteenth Chapter 
of Mr. Gibhon's History. By Henry Taylor, Rector of Crawley, and 
Vicar of Portsmouth in Hampshire, Author of Ben Mordecai's Apology 
for embracing Christianity," Svo. 1781-2. II. " Gibbon's Account of 
Christianity considered ; together with some Strictures on Hume's 
Dialogues concerning Natural Religion. By Joseph Milner, A. M. 
Master of the Grammer School of Kingston-upon-Hull," 1781. 8vo. 
III. Letters to Edward Gibbon, Esq. in Defence of the Authenticity of 
the 7th Verse of the 5th Chapter of the First Epistle of St. John. 
By George Travis. A. M." 1784, 4to * IV. " An Inquiry into the 
Secondary Causes which Mr. Gibbon has assigned for the rapid 
growth of Christianity. By Sir David Dalrymple (Lord Hailes)," 4to. 
1786.— M. 

No. 11. page 257. 

An answer to the Memoire Justificatif appeared, written by no less 
a person than the celebrated John Wilkes. It originally appeared as 
a number of" The Observer :" but was afterwards privately printed 
by Wilkes as a " Supplement to the Miscellaneous Works of Edward 
Gibbon, Esq." Wilkes was probably actuated by political animosity 
in the original publication ; in the reprint by personal resentment, on 

* In his third volume Mr. Gibbon took an opportunity to deny the 
authenticity of the verse 1 John v. 7. " For there are three," &c. In 
support of this verse, Mr. Archdeacon Travis addressed " Letters to 
Edward Gibbon, Esq." which were answered by Mr. Professor Porson, 
and produced a controversy of considerable warmth. 
T 2 



2?0 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 

account of the unfavourable notice <>f his profligate manners and con- 
versation in the autobiography of Gibbon. (See supra, page 1G4-.) As 
the examination of Gibbon's paper would not be very interesting to 

the reader, I have selected, as a literan curiosity (tor the tract is now 
little known), some of the passages which relate to Gibbon's political 
character. The last which I quote is an amusing instance of the justice 
and sagacity of political prophecy : — 

"It is true, Sir, that you are a very late ministerial convert, but your 
zeal i- ardent, ami you become so distinguished a figure in the group 
of placemen and pensioners, that you ought to fix the first atten- 
tion of The Observer. The Mhnoire Justificatif, which you have circu- 
lated with much industry as a favourite performance among your 
friends, would alone entitle you to this, perhaps painful pre-eminence. 

"Your zeal I applaud, the mode of its exertion I reprobate. It was 
indeed wonderful, that when every true lover of his country shrunk 
from the present ministerial crew, men despised through Europe and 
abhorred at home, you, Sir, so late as July last, listed under their inglo- 
rious banners, and independent in fortune, unencumbered with a family, 
joined yourself to corruption, imbecility, and infamy, by accepting a seat 
at the board of trade. 

" In September you gave the world, in our Sovereign's name, the Me- 
iiwirc Justificatif. I blush for the folly and prodigality of the age, when 
I reflect that Mr. Gibbon has 1000/. a year for a contemptible compi- 
lation, and Milton received only 1000/. for his noble Defence of the People 
of England. What a beautiful consistency of conduct The Observer must 
remark in our Prince ! Mr. Gibbon obtains a place, and the Welsh 
champion of Christendom, Henry Edward Davies, B. A. of Baliol 
College, Oxford, who attacked him as an ignorant, but daring, infidel, 
secures a pension. The avowed atheist, David Hume, was appointed, 
with a large salary, to represent the sacred person of our most religions 
King abroad, at the politest court in Europe. The doughty defender 
of the Kirk of Scotland, Dr. James Beattie, a professor in Lord Bute's 
university of Aberdeen, stays at home, and is rewarded with a pension, 
by the head of the church of England, for having overthrown this mighty 
David. Surely this must be the richest and most foolish country in 
the universe ! 

" Your conversion was not more rapid than unexpected. In the 
course of the last session you had frequent opportunities of observing 
the professions and conduct of the minister, and the force of truth hail 
more than once carried you from him among the minority. The bold 
Lord Advocate of Scot/am/ testified his surprise at your first vote against 
his ministerial friends. You told him, that you had voted with ministry 
as lung as any man of honour could. What change has since happened 
— except at the board of trader What single act oi' reparation has 
there been to an injured public? What new system of measures has 
been adopted, to which you are now giving your support ? What other 



CHAP. IX. NOTES AXD ADDITIONS. 277 

plan have you undertaken to justify, by accepting the pay of adminis- 
tration, the very individual administration with which vou declared that 
no man of honour could vote the very last session ? 

" I have now, Sir, finished the irksome task of examining and observing 
upon your Memoire Justified t if. You will acknowledge that I have 
proceeded no less than yourself sans erainte etsansflattcrie, p. 1. In 
the progress, what compassion have I felt for you, when I reflected on 
the many weary hours it has cost your learned leisure ! I still more 
commiserated you for those keen reproaches of conscience, which you 
must have suffered in an attempt to justify the proceedings of an admi- 
nistration, which so lately as a man of honour you reprobated. But 
perhaps the task was commanded by a task-master more cruel than 
those of Egypt ? Or was it undertaken to divert your attention from 
the promised second volume of your " History of the Decline and Fall 
of the Roman Empire ?" Such a subject must press with full force on 
your mind in the present moment, as to this lately flourishing empire. 
You might possibly with great prudence prefer a period prior to the loss 
of thirteen powerful colonies, and some rich sugar islands. It would 
at once soothe your own mind, and gratify the cahal, by the specious 
and glaring colouring of your eloquence; but, alas! how unavailing J 
Are we indeed secure of the return of the allegiance of any- one of the 
lately revolted provinces, after all our efforts ? The boundaries of this 
empire, so gloriously extended by our excellent Trajan, George II., 
even under his immediate successor, on every side recede. The neigh- 
bouring island of Sicily renounces the yoke, and seems ripe for revolt. 
By the weakness of the King's councils, and intestine discord, the state 
is shaken and convulsed to its centre. The first prince of the Brunswick 
line was styled fortunate, like the second of the Caesars. In the accla- 
mations to all the succeeding emperors of Trajan, the formulary vow 
was, felicior Augusto, melior Trajano. An Englishman would wish his 
Sovereign more fortunate than the first George, more excellent than the 
second. The present reigning Prince, with all the virtues of equity, 
'prudence, sincerity, and moderation, must be acknowledged unfortunate. 
In his reign we have already to lament the narrow, contracted limits, 
and rapid decline, of the British empire. May heaven avert the storm, 
which seems to threaten even the dissolution of our state, scarcely to 
leave a wreck after the mighty y«// of a potent empire under the modern 
Angus lulus /" 

No. 12. page 258. 

It has always appeared to me, that nothing could be more unjusti- 
fiable than the manner in which some persons allowed themselves to 
speak of Mr. Gibbon's acceptance of an office at the Board of Trade. I 
can conceive that he may carelessly have used strong expressions in 
respect to some, or all parties ; but he never meant that such expres- 
T 3 



278 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND \VRITJV 

sions should be taken literally ; and I know, beyond all possibility of 
question, that be was so far from being " in a state of savage hostility 
towards Lord North," as it is savagely expressed by Mr. Whitaker*. 

that he always loved and esteemed him. I saw Mr. Gibbon constantly 
at this time, and was well acquainted with all bis political opinions. 
And although he was not perfectly satisfied with every measure, yet he 

uniformly supported all the principal ones regarding the American war; 
and considered himself, and, indeed, was a friend to Administration to 
the very period of his accepting office, lie liked the brilliant society 
of a club, the most distinguished members of which were notorious for 
their opposition to Government, and might be led, in some degree to 
join in their language ; but Mr. Gibbon had little, I had almost said 



* The expressions to which Lord Sheffield alludes were thus brought 
before the public by Mr. Whitaker : — 

In June 1781. Mr. Fox's library came to be sold. Amongst his 
other books, the first volume of Mr. Gibbon's history was brought to 
the hammer. In the blank leaf of this was a note, in the hand-writing 
of Mr. Fox; stating a remarkable declaration of our historian at a well 
known tavern in Pall Mall, and contrasting it with Mr. Gibbon's poli- 
tical conduct afterwards. " The Author," it observed, " at Brookes's 
said, that there was no salvation for this country, until six heads of the 
principal persons in administration," (Lord North being then prime 
minister,) " wire laid upon the table. Yet," as the observation added, 
" eleven days afterwards, this same gentleman accepted a place of a lord 
of trade under these very ministers, and has acted with them ever since." 
This extraordinary anecdote, thus recorded, very naturally excited the 
attention of the purchasers. Numbers wished to have in their own 
possession such an honourable testimony from Mr. Fox in favour of Mr. 
Gibbon. The contention for it rose to a considerable height. Ami the 
volume by the aid of this manuscript addition to it, was sold for three 
guineas. From such a state of savage hostility in Mr. Gibbon, did the 
rod of this ministerial Hermes charm him down in eleven days only, 
and change the man who stood, as it were, with an axe in his hand, 
ready to behead him and five of his associates, into a sure friend, a friend 
in power; and now the spirit of ambition is forced to sleep in the breast 
of Mr Gibbon, and he himself is obliged to retire into Switzerland, a 
friend out of it. — Whitaker's Review, p. 26. 

To no one could the publication of this story be less acceptable than 
to Mr. Fox. Even it" he did write this note in a moment of haste 
or irritation, no one would be less likely to consider a man responsible 
for every thoughtless speech, uttered when he was "taking his ease" in 
his club, particularly where the expressions were so ludicrously exagger- 
ated, that they could not be understood seriously. .Mr. Fox, as appears 
by Gibbon's letters, met Gibbon subsequently on" the footing of the most 
cordial and intimate friendship. The exquisite ameniu o\ Mr. fox's 
disposition, the kindness of his heart, must have been pained at this at- 
tempt to perpetuate a sentence, written possibly, after all, rather half jest- 
ingly than iii grave earnest. It is melancholj to see the manly Christian 
co'urn e, displayed in Mr. Whitaker's carh letters, degenerating into 
personal rancour, and (it is difficult for the most impartial charity not 
to suspect) into the bitterness ofthewounded pride of authorship. — M. 



CHAP. IX. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 279 

no political, acrimony in his character. If the opposition of that or any 
other time could claim for their own every person who was not per- 
fectly satisfied with all the measures of Government, their party would 
unquestionably have been more formidable. — S. 

No. 13. page 258. 

From Edward Gibbon, Esq. to Edward Elliot, Esq. of Port 
Elliot (afterwards Lord Elliot.) 

Dear Sir, 2d July, 1779. 

Yesterday I received a very interesting communication from my 
friend the Attorney General*, whose kind and honourable behaviour 
towards me I must always remember with the highest gratitude. He 
informed me that, in consequence of an arrangement, a place at the 
Board of Trade was reserved for me, and that as soon as I signified my 
acceptance of it, he was satisfied no farther difficulties would arise. 
My answer to him was sincere and explicit. I told him that I was far 
from approving all the past measures of the administration, even some 
of those in which I myself had silently concurred ; that I saw, with the 
rest of the world, many capital defects in the characters of some of the 
present ministers, and was sorry that in so alarming a situation of public 
affairs, the country had not the assistance of several able and honest 
men who are now in opposition. But that I had not formed with any 
of those persons in opposition any engagements or connections which 
could in the least restrain or affect my parliamentary conduct ; that I 
could not discover among them such superior advantages, either of 
measures or of abilities, as could make me consider it as a duty to attach 
myself to their cause ; and that I clearly understood, from the public 
and private language of one of their leaders (Charles Fox), that in the 
actual state of the country, he himself was seriously of opinion that op- 
position could not tend to any good purpose, and might be productive 
of much mischief; that, for those reasons, I saw no objections, which 
could prevent me from accepting an office under the present government, 
and that I was ready to take a step which I found to be consistent both 
with my interest and my honour. 

It must now be decided, whether I may continue to live in England, 
or whether I must soon withdraw myself into a kind of philosophical 
exile in Switzerland. My father left his affairs in a state of embarrass- 
ment, and even of distress. My attempts to dispose of a part of my 
landed property have hitherto been disappointed, and are not likely at 
present to be more successful; and my plan of expense, though 
moderate in itself, deserves the name of extravagance, since it exceeds 



* Alexander Wedderburne, since created Lord Loughborough, Earl 
of Roslin. and Lord Chancellor. 

T 4 



2S0 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 

my real income. The addition of the salary which is now offered will 
make ni\ situation perfectly easy ; but I liopeyou will do me the justice 

to believe that m\ mind could not be SO, unless I were satisfied of the 

rectitude of my own conduct. 

Note 14. pr.gc 261. 
Extract from Mr. Gibbon's Common-place Booh. 

Thomas Newton, Bishop of Bristol and Dean of St. Paul's, was born 
at Litchfield on the 21 si of December, 1703, O. S. (1st January, 
1704, N. S.) and died the 14th of February, 17:^, in the 79th year of 
his age. A few days before his death he finished the memoirs of his 
own life, which have been prefixed to an edition of his posthumous 
works, first published in quarto, and since (1787) re-published in six 
volumes octavo. 

Pp. 173, 174. "Some books were published in 1781, which em- 
ployed some of the Bishop's leisure hours, and during his illness. 
Mr. Gibbon's History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire he 
read throughout, but it by no means answered his expectation ; for he 
found it rather a prolix and tedious performance, his matter unin- 
teresting, and his style affected; his testimonies not to be depended 
upon, and his frequent scoffs at religion offensive to every sober mind. 
lie had before been convicted of making false quotations, which should 
have taught him more prudence and caution. But, without examining 
his authorities, there is one which must necessarily strike every man 
who has read Dr. Burnet's Treatise dc Statu Mortuorum. In vol. iii. 
p. 99., Mr. G. has the following note : — " Burnet (de S. M. p. 5G— 84.) 
collects the opinions of the Fathers, as far as they assert the sleep or 
repose of human souls till the day of judgment. He afterwards ex- 
poses (p. 91.) the inconveniences which must arise if they possessed a 
more active and sensible existence. Who would not from hence infer 
that Dr. B. was an advocate for the sleep or insensible existence of the 
soul after death ? whereas his doctrine is directly the contrary. He 
has employed some chapters in treating of the state of human souls in 
the interval between death and the resurrection ; and after various 
proofs from reason, from scripture, and the Fathers, his conclusions 
•arc, that human souls exist after their separation from the body, that 
tlir\ are in a good or evil state according to their good or ill behaviour, 
but that neither their happiness nor their misery will be complete or 
perfect before the day of judgment. His argumentation is thus summed 
up at the end of the lth chanter — Ex quibus constat prima, animas 
superesse exlincto corpore ; secundo, bonas bene, ma/as male se habituras ; 
latin, ncc illis siiniiiiinii flicilatcm, nee his suinmani miscriam, acccssuram 
esse ante diem judicii. (The Bishop's reading the whole was a greater 
compliment to the work than was paid to it bj two of tin- most eminent 
of his brethren for their learning and station. The one entered upon 



CHAP. IX. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 281 

it, but was soon wearied, and laid it aside in disgust: the other returned 
it upon the bookseller's hands ; and it is said that Mr, G. himself hap- 
pened unluckily to be in the shop at the same time.) 

Does the Bishop comply with his own precept in the next page ? 
(p. 17.5.) "Old age should lenity, should soften men's manners, and 
make them more mild and gentle ; but often has the contrary effect, 
hardens their hearts, and makes them more sour and crabbed." — He 
is speaking of Dr. Johnson. 

Have 1 ever insinuated that preferment-hunting is the great occu- 
pation of an ecclesiastical life ? (Memoirs, passim) ; that a minister's 
influence and a bishop's patronage are sometimes pledged eleven deep ? 
(p. 151.) ; that a prebendary considers the audit week as the better part 
of the year ? (p. 127.); or that the most eminent of priests, the pope 
himself, would change their religion, if any thing better could be offered 
them ? (p. 56.) Such things are more than insinuated in the Bishop's 
Life, which afforded some scandal to the church, and some diversion 
to the profane laity. 

None of the attacks from ecclesiastical antagonists were more 
malignant and illiberal than some strictures published in the English 
Review, October, 1788, &c. and afterwards reprinted in a separate 
volume, with the signature of John Whitaker, in 1791. I had men- 
tioned them to Mr. Gibbon, when first published, but so far was he 
from supposing them worth his notice, that he did not even desire they 
should be sent to him, and he actually did not see them till his late 
visit to England a few months before his death. If Mr. Whitaker had 
only pointed his bitterness against Mr. Gibbon's ojnnions, perhaps no 
inquiry would have been made into the possible source of his collected 
virulence, and deliberate malignity. 

I have in my possession very amicable letters from the Rev. Mr. 
Whitaker to Mr. Gibbon, written some time after he had read the 
offensive 15th and 16th chapters of the Decline and Fall. When 
Mr. Gibbon came to England, in 1787, he read Whitaker's Mary Queen 
of Scots, and I have heard him very incautiously express his opinion 
of it. Some good-natured friend mentioned it to Mr. Whitaker. It 
must be an extraordinary degree of resentment that could induce any 
person, of a liberal mind, to scrape together defamatory stories, true or 
false, and blend them with the defence of the most benign religion, 
whose precepts inculcate the very opposite practice. Religion receives 
her greatest injuries from those champions of the church who, under 
the pretence of vindicating the Gospel, outrageously violate both the 
spirit and the letter of it. 

Mr. Whitaker affects principally to review the fourth, fifth, and sixth 
volumes, but he has allotted the first month's review to an attack on 
the first three volumes, or rather on the first, which had been published 
twelve years and a half before it occurred to him that a review of it was 
necessary. — S. 



282 MEMOIRS OF 



CHAP. X. 

Mr. Gibbon leaves London, and settles at Lausanne, in flu- 
House of his Friend M. Deyverdun ; his Reasons fur doing 
so. — Reflections on his change of Situation. — Short Cha- 
racters of Prince Henry of Prussia and of Mr. Fox, both 
of tohom he sees at Lausanne. — Proceeds in, and finishes 
his History. — Interesting Remarks on concluding it. — 
Pays a Visit to Lord Sheffield in England. — Remarks 
on Lord Sheffield's Writings; publishes the remainder of 
his History ; returns to Lausanne ; his manner of employ- 
ing his time. — The Death of M. Deyverdun. — Ob- 
servations of the Author upon the French Revolution, the 
Government of Berne, and his own Situation. — The 
Memoirs end. 

Fkom my early acquaintance with Lausanne I 
had always cherished a secret wish, that the school 
of my youth might become the retreat of my de- 
clining age. A moderate fortune would secure 
the blessings of ease, leisure, and independence : 
the country, the people, the manners, the lan- 
guage, were congenial to my taste ; and I might 
indulge the hope of passing some years in the do- 
mestic society of a friend. After travelling with 
several English 1 , Mr. Deyverdun was now settled 
at home, in a pleasant habitation, the gift of his 
deceased aunt : we had long been separated, we 
had long been silent ; yet in my first letter I 

' sir Richard Worsk'.v, Lord Chesterfield, Broderick Lord Mid- 
dlcton, and Mr. Hume, brother to Sir Abraham. 



CHAP. X. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. '283 

exposed with the most perfect confidence my 
situation, my sentiments, and my designs. His 
immediate answer was a warm and joyful accept- 
ance ; the picture of our future life provoked my 
impatience ; and the terms of arrangement were 
short and simple, as he possessed the property, and 
I undertook the expense of our common house. 
Before I could break my English chain, it was in- 
cumbent on me to struggle with the feelings of 
my heart, the indolence of my temper, and the 
opinion of the world, which unanimously con- 
demned this voluntary banishment. In the dis- 
posal of my effects, the library, a sacred deposit, 
was alone excepted. As my post-chaise moved over 
Westminster Bridge, I bade along farewell to the 
" fumum et opes strepitumque Romae." My journey 
by the direct road through France was not at- 
tended with any accident, and I arrived at Lausanne 
nearly twenty years after my second departure. 
Within less than three months the coalition struck 
on some hidden rocks : had I remained on board, 
I should have perished in the general ship- 
wreck. (1) 

Since my establishment at Lausanne, more than 
seven years have elapsed ; and if every day has not 
been equally soft and serene, not a day, not a mo- 
ment, has occurred in which I have repented of 
my choice. During my absence, a long portion of 
human life, many changes had happened : my 
elder acquaintance had left the stage ; virgins were 
ripened into matrons, and children were grown to 
the age of manhood. But the same manners were 
transmitted from one generation to another : my 



JM MEMOIRS OF CHAP. X. 

friend alone was an inestimable treasure ; my name 
was not totally forgotten, and all were ambitious 
to welcome the arrival of a stranger and the return 
of a fellow-citizen. The first winter was given to 
a general embrace, without any nice discrimination 
of persons and characters. After a more regular 
settlement, a more accurate survey, I discovered 
three solid and permanent benefits of my new si- 
tuation. 1. My personal freedom had been some- 
what impaired by the House of Commons and the 
Board of Trade ; but I was now delivered from the 
chain of duty and dependence, from the hopes and 
fears of political adventure : my sober mind was 
no longer intoxicated by the fumes of party, and 
I rejoiced in my escape, as often as I read of the 
midnight debates which preceded the dissolution 
of parliament. 2. My English economy had been 
that of a solitary bachelor, who might afford some 
occasional dinners. In Switzerland I enjoyed at 
every meal, at every hour, the free and pleasant 
conversation of the friend of my youth ; and my 
daily table was always provided for the reception 
of one or two extraordinary guests. Our impor- 
tance in society is less a positive than a relative 
weight ; in London I was lost in the crowd ; I 
ranked with the first families of Lausanne, and my 
style of prudent expense enabled me to maintain a 
lair balance of reciprocal civilities. S. Instead of 
a small house between a street and a stable-yard, 
I began to occupy a spacious and convenient man- 
sion, connected on the north side with the city, 
and open on the south to a beautiful and boundless 
horizon. A garden of four acres had been laid out 



CHAP. X. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 285 

by the taste of Mr. Deyverdun : from the garden 
a rich scenery of meadows and vineyards descends 
to the Leman Lake, and the prospect far beyond 
the Lake is crowned by the stupendous mountains 
of Savoy. My books and my acquaintance had 
been first united in London : but this happy po- 
sition of my library in town and country was finally 
reserved for Lausanne. Possessed of every com- 
fort in this triple alliance, I could not be tempted 
to change my habitation with the changes of the 
seasons. 

My friends had been kindly apprehensive that I 
should not be able to exist in a Swiss town at the 
foot of the Alps, after having so long conversed 
with the first men of the first cities of the world. 
Such lofty connections may attract the curious, 
and gratify the vain ; but I am too modest, or too 
proud, to rate my own value by that of my asso- 
ciates ; and whatsoever may be the fame of learning 
or genius, experience has shown me that the cheaper 
qualifications of politeness and good sense are of 
more useful currency in the commerce of life. By 
many, conversation is esteemed as a theatre or a 
school : but, after the morning has been occupied 
by the labours of the library, I wish to unbend 
rather than to exercise my mind ; and in the in- 
terval between tea and supper I am far from dis- 
daining the innocent amusement of a game at cards 
Lausanne is peopled by a numerous gentry, whose 
companionable idleness is seldom disturbed by the 
pursuits of avarice or ambition : the women, though 
confined to a domestic education, are endowed for 
the most part with more taste and knowledge than 



MEMOIRS OF I HAP. X. 

their husbands and brothers : but the decent 
freedom of both sexes is equally remote from the 
extremes of simplicity and refinement. I shall add 
as a misfortune rather than a merit, that the situ- 
ation and beauty of the Pays de Vaud, the long 
habits of the English, the medical reputation of 
Dr. Tissot, and the fashion of viewing the mountains 
and Glaciers, have opened us on all sides to the 
incursions of foreigners. The visits of Mr. and 
Madame Necker, of Prince Henry of Prussia, and 
of Mr. Fox, may form some pleasing exceptions ; 
but, in general, Lausanne has appeared most agree- 
able in my eyes, when we have been abandoned to 
our own society. I had frequently seen Mr. Necker, 
in the summer of 17§4, at a country house near 
Lausanne, where he composed his Treatise on the 
Administration of the Finances. I have since, in 
October 1790, visited him in his present residence, 
the castle and barony of Copet, near Geneva. 
Of the merits and measures of that statesman 
various opinions may be entertained ; but all im- 
partial men must agree in their esteem of his inte- 
grity and patriotism. 

In the month of August 1784, Prince Henry of 
Prussia, in his way to Paris, passed three days at 
Lausanne. His military conduct has been praised 
by professional men ; his character has been vi- 
lified by the wit and malice of a demon - ; but 1 was 
flattered by his affability, and entertained by his 
conversation. 

In his tour to Switzerland (September I788) 
Mr. Fox gave me two days of free and private so- 

Memoire Secret de la Cour de Berlin, par Mirabeau. 



CHAP. X. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 287 

ciety. 3 He seemed to feel, and even to envy, the 
happiness of my situation ; while I admired the 
powers of a superior man, as they are blended in 
his attractive character with the softness and sim- 
plicity of a child. Perhaps no human being was 
ever more perfectly exempt from the taint of ma- 
levolence, vanity, or falsehood. 

My transmigration from London to Lausanne 
could not be effected without interrupting the 
course of my historical labours. The hurry of my 
departure, the joy of my arrival, the delay of my 
tools, suspended their progress ; and a full twelve- 
month was lost before I could resume the thread of 
regular and daily industry. A number of books 
most requisite and least common had been pre- 
viously selected ; the academical library of Lau- 
sanne, which I could use as my own, contained at 
least the fathers and councils ; and I have derived 
some occasional succour from the public collections 
of Berne and Geneva. The fourth volume was 
soon terminated, by an abstract of the controversies 
of the Incarnation, which the learned Dr. Prideaux 
was apprehensive of exposing to profane eyes. 
It had been the original design of the learned 
Dean Prideaux to write the history of the ruin of 
the Eastern Church. In this work it would have 
been necessary, not only to unravel all those con- 
troversies which the Christians made about the 
hypostatical union, but also to unfold all the 
niceties and subtle notions which each sect enter- 
tained concerning it. The pious historian was ap- 
prehensive of exposing that incomprehensible 

3 See Letter in the Continuation, October 1. 1788. 



l JSb MEMOIRS OF CHAP. X. 

mystery to the cavils and objections of unbe- 
lievers; and he durst not, "seeing the nature of 
this book, venture it abroad in so wanton and 
lewd an age." 1 

In the fifth and sixth volumes the revolutions of 
the empire and the world are most rapid, various, 
and instructive ; and the Greek or Roman histo- 
rians are checked by the hostile narratives of the 
barbarians of the East and the West. 5 

It was not till after many designs, and many 
trials, that I preferred, as I still prefer, the method 
of grouping my picture by nations ; and the seem- 
ing neglect of chronological order is surely com- 
pensated by the superior merits of interest and 
perspicuity. The style of the first volume is, in 
my opinion, somewhat crude and elaborate ; in the 
second and third it is ripened into ease, correct- 
ness, and numbers ; but in the three last I may 
have been seduced by the facility of my pen, and 
the constant habit of speaking one language and 
writing another may have infused some mixture of 
Gallic idioms. Happily for my eyes, I have always 
closed my studies with the day, and commonly 
with the morning ; and a long, but temperate, 
labour has been accomplished, without fatiguing 
either the mind or body ; but when I computed 
the remainder of my time and my task, it was ap- 



* See Preface to the Life of Mahomet, p. 10, 11. 

5 I have followed the judicious precept of the Abbe" de Mablv ( Ma- 
niere d'e'erire l'llistoire, p. I 10. ) who advises the historian not to dwell 
too minutely on the decay of the Eastern empire ; but to consider the 
barbarian conquerors as a more worthj subject of bis narrative. "Fas 
est et ab hoste doceri." 



CHAP. X. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 2S9 

parent that, according to the season of publication, 
the delay of a month would be productive of that 
of a year. I was now straining for the goal, and 
in the last winter many evenings were borrowed 
from the social pleasures of Lausanne. I could 
now wish that a pause, an interval, had been allowed 
for a serious revisal. 

I have presumed to mark the moment of concep- 
tion : I shall now commemorate the hour of my 
final deliverance. It was on the day, or rather night, 
of the 27th of June I787, between the hours of 
eleven and twelve, that I wrote the last lines of the 
last page in a summer-house in my garden. After 
laying down my pen, I took several turns in a her- 
ceau, or covered walk of acacias, which commands a 
prospect of the country,the lake, and the mountains. 
The air was temperate, the sky was serene, the 
silver orb of the moon was reflected from the waters, 
and all nature was silent. I w T ill not dissemble the 
first emotions of joy on recovery of my freedom, 
and perhaps, the establishment of my fame. But 
my pride was soon humbled, and a sober melancholy 
was spread over my mind, by the idea that I had 
taken an everlasting leave of an old and agreeable 
companion, and that whatsoever might be the 
future date of my History, the life of the historian 
must be short and precarious. I will add two facts, 
which have seldom occurred in the composition of 
six, or at least of five, quartos. 1. My first rough 
manuscript, without any intermediate copy, has 
been sent to the press. 2. Not a sheet has been 
seen by any human eyes, excepting those of the 



J! Il» MEMOIRS OF CHAP. X. 

author and the printer: the faults and the merits 
are exclusively my own/' 

I cannot help recollecting- a much more extra- 
ordinary fact, which is affirmed of himself by Retif 
de la Bretorme, a voluminous and original writer 
of French novels. He laboured, and may still 
labour, in the humble office of corrector to a 
printing-house ; but this office enabled him to 
transport an entire volume from his mind to the 
press ; and his work was given to the public with- 
out ever having been written by the pen. 

After a quiet residence of four years, during 
which I had never moved ten miles from Lausanne, 
it was not without some reluctance and terror that 
I undertook, in a journey of two hundred leagues, 
to cross the mountains and the sea. Yet this for- 
midable adventure was achieved without danger or 
fatigue ; and at the end of a fortnight I found my- 
self in Lord Sheffield's house and library, safe, 
happy, and at home. The character of my friend 
(Mr. Holroyd) had recommended him to a seat in 
parliament for Coventry, the command of a regi- 
ment of light dragoons, and an Irish peerage. 
The sense and spirit of his political writings have 
decided the public opinion on the great questions 

'■ Extract from Mr. Gibbon's Common-place Booh. 

The I Vth Volume of the History") , ,, , , .„ oa . , 

of the Decline and Fall of thi[ he f D "g? l78g - end ed 

Roman Empire J June l784 ' 

The Vth Volume j l,c f 1 ! „. Ju >' 1784 -ended May 

I 1. I f86. 



The Vlth Volume [ be S un ***y A* 1786-ended 



June 27. L787. 



These three volumes were sen! to press August 15. 1787, and the 
whole impression was concluded April following. 



CHAP. X. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 291 

of our commercial interest with America and 
Ireland. 7 , 

The sale of his Observations on the American 
States was diffusive, their effect beneficial ; the 
Navigation Act, the palladium of Britain, was de- 
fended, and perhaps saved, by his pen ; and he 
proves, by the weight of fact and argument, that 
the mother-country may survive and flourish after 
the loss of America. My friend has never culti- 
vated the arts of composition ; but his materials are 
copious and correct, and he leaves on his paper the 
clear impression of an active and vigorous mind. 
His " Observations on the Trade, Manufactures, 
and present State of Ireland" were intended to 
guide the industry, to correct the prejudices, and 
to assuage the passions of a country which seemed 
to forget that she could be free and prosperous 
only by a friendly connection with Great Britain. 
The concluding observations are written with so 
much ease and spirit, that they may be read by 
those who are the least interested in the subject. 

He fell 8 (1784) with the unpopular coalition ; 
but his merit has been acknowledged at the last 
general election, 1790, by the honourable invita- 
tion and free choice of the city of Bristol. 9 During 
the whole time of my residence in England, I was 
entertained at Sheffield-Place and in Downing- 



? Observations on the Commerce of the American States, by John 
Lord Sheffield, the 6th edition, London, 1784, in 8vo. 

8 It is not obvious from whence he fell ; he never held nor desired 
any office of emolument whatever, unless his military commissions, and 
the command of a regiment of light dragoons, which he raised himself, 
and which was disbanded on the peace in 1783, should be deemed such. 

9 See a Letter from Mr. Gibbon to Lord Sheffield, Lausanne, 
August 7. 1790. 

U 2 



292 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. X. 

streetj by his hospitable kindness; and the most 
pleasant period was thai which I passed in the 
domestic society of the family. In the larger 
circle of the metropolis I observed the country 
and the inhabitants with the knowledge, and with- 
out the prejudices, of an Englishman; but I re- 
joiced in the apparent increase of wealth and pros- 
perity, which might be fairly divided between the 
spirit of the nation and the wisdom of the minister. 
All party resentment was now lost in oblivion ; 
since I was no man's rival, no man was my enemy. 
I felt the dignity of independence, and as I asked 
no more, I was satisfied with the general civilities 
of the world. The house in London which I fre- 
quented with most pleasure and assiduity was that 
of Lord North. After the loss of power and of 
sight, he was still happy in himself and his friends, 
and my public tribute of gratitude and esteem 
could no longer be suspected of any interested 
motive. Before my departure from England, I was 
present at the august spectacle of Mr. Hastings's 
trial in Westminster Hall. It is not my province 
to absolve or condemn the Governor of India w ; 
but Mr. Sheridan's eloquence commanded my ap- 
plause ; nor could I hear without emotion the 
personal compliment which he paid me in the 
presence of the British nation." 

1 ' lie considered the persecution of that highly respectable person to 
have arisen from party views. — y. 

11 lie said the facts that made up the volume of narrative were un- 
paralleled in atrociousness, and that nothing equal in criminality was to 
be traced, either in ancient or modern history, iii the correct periods of 
Tacitus or the luminous page of Gibbon.* — Morning Chronicle, June li. 
1788. 

* Did no "good-natured friend" this "personal compliment" — "I 
impart toGibbon the malicious turn meant to say voluminous." — M. 

which the wit. in private, gave to 



CHAP. X. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 2Q3 

From this display of genius, which blazed four 
successive days, I shall stoop to a very mechanical 
circumstance. As I was waiting in the manager's 
box, I had the curiosity to inquire of the short- 
hand writer, how many words a ready and rapid 
orator might pronounce in an hour? From 7000 
to 7^00 was his answer. The medium of 7200 
will afford 120 words in a minute, and two words 
in each second. But this computation will only 
apply to the English language. 

As the publication of my three last volumes 
was the principal object, so it was the first care of 
my English journey. The previous arrangements 
with the bookseller and the printer were settled in 
my passage through London, and the proofs which 
I returned more correct, were transmitted every 
post from the press to Sheffield-Place. The length 
of the operation, and the leisure of the country, 
allowed some time to review my manuscript. 
Several rare and useful books, the Assises de 
Jerusalem, Ramusius de Bello C. P 3r0 , the Greek 
Acts of the Synod of Florence, the Statuta Urbis 
Romae, &c. were procured, and I introduced in their 
proper places the supplements which they afforded. 
The impression of the fourth volume had consumed 
three months. Our common interest required that 
we should move with a quicker pace ; and Mr. 
Strahan fulfilled his engagement, which few printers 
could sustain, of delivering every week three 
thousand copies of nine sheets. The day of publi- 
cation was, however, delayed, that it might coin- 
cide with the fifty-first anniversary of my own 
birth-day ; the double festival was celebrated by a 
u 3 



294 MEMOIRS OF CHAP, X- 

cheerful literary dinner at Mr. Cadell's house; and 
I seemed to blush while they read an elegant com- 
pliment from Mr. Hayley (2), whose poetical talents 
had more than once been employed in the praise 
of his friend. Before Mr. Hayley inscribed with 
ni\ name his epistles on history(o), I was not ac- 
quainted with that amiable man and elegant poet. 
He afterwards thanked me in verse for my second 
and third volumes (-1); and in the summer of 1781, 
the Roman Eagle (o) (a proud title) accepted the 
invitation of the English Sparrow, who chirped in 
the groves of Eartham, near Chichester. As most 
of the former purchasers were naturally desirous of 
completing their sets, the sale of the quarto edition 
was quick and easy; and an octavo size was printed 
to satisfy at a cheaper rate the public demand. 
The conclusion of my work was generally read, 
and variously judged. The style has been exposed 
to much academical criticism ; a religious clamour 
was revived, and the reproach of indecency has 
been loudly echoed by the rigid censors of morals. 
I never could understand the clamour that has been 
raised against the indecency of my three last vo- 
lumes.* 1. An equal degree of freedom in the 
former part, especially in the first volume, had 
passed without reproach. c 2. I am justified in 
painting the manners of the times ; the vices of 
Theodora form an essential feature in the reign and 
character of Justinian ; and the most naked tale in 
my history is told by the Rev. Mr. Joseph Warton, 
an instructor of youth. (Essay on the Genius and 



* The editor cannot agree in cessarj to direct particular at- 
iliis exculpation of Gibbon, bul to tention to passages which arc 
justifj his opinion it would be ne- better left unnoticed.— M. 



CHAP. X. MY LITE AND WRITINGS. 2Q5 

Writings of Pope, p. 322—324.) 3. My English 
text is chaste, and all licentious passages are left in 
the obscurity of a learned language. Le Latin dans 
ses mots brave I'honnetete, says the correct Boileau, 
in a country and idiom more scrupulous than our 
own. Yet, upon the whole, the History of the 
Decline and Fall seems to have struck root, both at 
home and abroad, and may, perhaps, a hundred 
years hence still continue to be abused. I am less 
flattered by Mr. Porson's high encomium on the 
style and spirit of my history, than I am satisfied 
with his honourable testimony to my attention, 
diligence, and accuracy ; those humble virtues, 
which religious zeal had most audaciously denied. 
The sweetness of his praise is tempered by a rea- 
sonable mixture of acid. 12 (6) As the book may not 
be common in England, I shall transcribe my own 
character from the Bibliotheca Historica of Meuse- 
lius 13 , a learned and laborious German : — " Summis 
sevi nostri historicis Gibbonus sine dubio adnume- 
randus est. Inter Capitolii ruinas stans primum 
hujus operis scribendi consilium cepit. Floren- 
tissimos vitae annos colligendo et laborando eidem 
impendit. Enatum inde monumentum asre per- 
ennius, licet passim appareant sinistre dicta, minus 
perfecta, veritati non satis consentanea. Videmus 
quidem ubique fere studium scrutandi veritatemque 
scribendi maximum : tamen sine Tillemontio duce, 
ubi scilicet hujus historia finitur, saapius nostertitu- 
bat atque hallucinatur. Quod vel maxime fit, ubi 
de rebus Ecclesiasticis vel de juris prudentia 

1-2 See his preface, page 28. 32. 
'3 Vol. iv. part 1. page 342.344. 

u 4 



29d 



.M1..MOIUS OF 



Romana (torn, iv.) tradit, et in aliis locis. Attamen 
naevi hujus generis hand impediunt quo minus 
operis summam et oixovofuav praeclare dispositam, 
delcctum rerum sapientissimum, argutum quoque 
interdum, dictionemque seu stylum historico aeque 
ac philosopho dignissimum, et vix a quoque alio 
Anglo, Humio ac Robertsono baud exceptis (jjvce- 
reptumf), vehementer laudemus, atque sseculo 

nostro de hujusmodi historia gratulemur 

Gibbonus adversarios cum in turn extra patriam 
nactus est, quia propagationem religionis Chris- 
tiana?, non, ut vulgo fieri solet, aut more Theolo- 
gorum, sed ut Historicum et Philosophum decet, 
exposuerat." 

The French, Italian, and German translations, 
have been executed with various success ; but, 
instead of patronising, I should willingly suppress 
such imperfect copies, which injure the character, 
while they propagate the name of the author. The 
first volume had been feebly, though faithfully, 
translated into French by M. Le Clerc de Sept- 
chenes, a young gentleman of a studious character 
and liberal fortune. After his decease the work 
was continued by two manufacturers of Paris, 
MM. Desmuniers and Cantwell ; but the former 
is now an active member of the National Assembly, 
and the undertaking languishes in the hands of 
his associate.* The superior merit of the inter- 
preter, or his language, inclines me to prefer the 
Italian version : but I wish that it were in my 
power to read the German, which is praised by the 
best judges. The Irish pirates are at once my 

* The French translation has In the masterly hand of M.Guizot. 
now been corrected ami re-edited — M. 



CHAP. X. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 297 

friends and my enemies. But I cannot be dis- 
pleased with the two numerous and correct im- 
pressions which have been published for the use 
of the Continent at Basil in Switzerland. 14 The 
conquests of our language and literature are not 
confined to Europe alone, and a writer who 
succeeds in London, is speedily read on the banks 
of the Delaware and the Ganges. 

In the preface of the fourth volume, while I 
gloried in the name of an Englishman, I announced 
my approaching return to the neighbourhood of 
the Lake of Lausanne. This last trial confirmed 
my assurance that I had wisely chosen for my own 
happiness ; nor did I once in a year's visit, enter- 
tain a wish of settling in my native country. 
Britain is the free and fortunate island ; but where 
is the spot in which I could unite the comforts 
and beauties of my establishment at Lausanne? 
The tumult of London astonished my eyes and 
ears ; the amusements of public places were no 
longer adequate to the trouble ; the clubs and 
assemblies were filled with new faces and young 
men ; and our best society, our long and late 
dinners, would soon have been prejudicial to my 
health. Without any share in the political wheel, 
I must be idle and insignificant : yet the most 
splendid temptations would not have enticed me 
to engage a second time in the servitude of parlia- 
ment or office. At Tunbridge, some weeks after 
the publication of my History, I reluctantly 



14 Of their fourteen octavo volumes the two last include the whole 
hody of the notes. The public importunity had forced me to remove 
them from the end of the volume to the bottom of the page; but I have 
often repented of my compliance. 



^'Jo MEMOIRS OF CHAP. X. 

quitted Lord and Lady Sheffield, and with a young 

Swiss friend 1 ', whom I had introduced to the English 
world, I pursued the road of Dover and Lausanne. 
My habitation was embellished in my absence, 
and the last division of books, which followed my 
steps, increased my chosen library to the number 
of between six and seven thousand volumes. My 
seraglio was ample, my choice was free, my appe- 
tite was keen. After a full repast on Homer and 
Aristophanes, I involved myself in the philosophic 
maze in the writings of Plato, of which the 
dramatic is, perhaps, more interesting than the 
argumentative part ; but I stepped aside into 
every path of inquiry which reading or reflection 
accidentally opened. 

Alas ! the joy of my return, and my studious 
ardour were soon damped by the melancholy state 
of my friend Mr. Deyverdun. His health and 
spirits had long suffered a gradual decline, a suc- 
cession of apoplectic fits announced his dissolution, 
and before he expired, those who loved him could 
not wish for the continuance of his life. The 
voice of reason might congratulate his deliverance, 
but the feelings of nature and friendship could be 
subdued only by time : his amiable character was 
still alive in my remembrance ; each room, each 
walk was imprinted with our common footsteps ; 
and I should blush at my own philosophy, if a 
long interval of study had not preceded and fol- 
lowed the death of my friend. By his last will he 
left to me the option of purchasing his house and 
garden, or of possessing them during my life, on 

is M. Wilhelm de Severy. 



CHAP. X. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 299 

the payment either of a stipulated price, or of an 
easy retribution to his kinsman and heir. I should 
probably have been tempted by the daemon of 
property, if some legal difficulties had not been 
started against my title ; a contest would have 
been vexatious, doubtful, and invidious ; and the 
heir most gratefully subscribed an agreement, 
which rendered my life possession more perfect, 
and his future condition more advantageous. 16 Yet 
I had often revolved the judicious lines in which 
Pope answers the objections of his long-sighted 
friend, — 

Pity to build without or child or wife ; 
Why, you'll enjoy it only all your life : 
Well, if the use be mine, does it concern one, 
Whether the name belong to Pope or Vernon ? 

The certainty of my tenure has allowed me to lay 
out a considerable sum in improvements and alter- 
ations : they have been executed with skill and 
taste ; and few men of letters, perhaps, in Europe, 
are so desirably lodged as myself. But I feel, and 
with the decline of years I shall more painfully 
feel, that I am alone in paradise. Among the 
circle of my acquaintance at Lausanne, I have 
gradually acquired the solid and tender friendship 
of a respectable family 17 ; the four persons of 
whom it is composed are all endowed with the 
virtues best adapted to their age and situation ; 
and I am encouraged to love the parents as a 
brother, and the children as a father. Every day 

is See Mr. Gibbon's Letters, 14th July, August, 7th Sept., 9th Sept., 
1789. 

'7 The family of de Severv. 



800 MEMOIRS OF (HAP. X. 

we seek and find the opportunities of meeting : 
yet even this valuable connection cannot supply 
the loss of domestic society. 

Within the last two or three years our tran- 
quillity has been clouded by the disorders of France; 
many families at Lausanne were alarmed and af- 
fected by the terrors of an impending bankruptcy; 
but the revolution, or rather the dissolution of the 
kingdom, has been heard and felt in the adjacent 
lands. 

I beg leave to subscribe my assent to Mr. 
Burke's creed on the revolution of France. I 
admire his eloquence, I approve his politics, I 
adore his chivalry, and I can almost excuse his 
reverence for church establishments. I have some- 
times thought of writing a dialogue of the dead, 
in which Lucian, Erasmus, and Voltaire should 
mutually acknowledge the danger of exposing an 
old superstition to the contempt of the blind and 
fanatic multitude. 

A swarm of emigrants of both sexes, who 
escaped from the public ruin, has been attracted by 
the vicinity, the manners, and the language of 
Lausanne ; and our narrow habitations in town 
and country, are now occupied by the first names 
and titles of the departed monarchy. 18 These 
noble fugitives are entitled to our pity ; they may 
claim our esteem, but they cannot, in their present 
state of mind and fortune, much contribute to our 
amusement. Instead of looking down as calm and 
idle spectators on the theatre of Europe, our do- 
See Mr. Gibbon's Letters, l.jth Dec. 1789, ditto 1790, 5th Oct. 
1792, 13th Oct. 1792,20th Oct. 1792, LOth Nov. 1792. 



CHAP. X. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 301 

mestic harmony is somewhat embittered by the 
infusion of party spirit : our ladies and gentlemen 
assume the character of self-taught politicians ; 
and the sober dictates of wisdom and experience 
are silenced by the clamour of the triumphant 
democr cites, The fanatic missionaries of sedition 
have scattered the seeds of discontent in our cities 
and villages, which have flourished above two 
hundred and fifty years, without fearing the 
approach of war, or feeling the weight of govern- 
ment. Many individuals, and some communities, 
appear to be infected with the Gallic phrenzy, the 
wild theories of equal and boundless freedom ; but 
I trust that the body of the people will be faithful 
to their sovereign and to themselves ; and I am 
satisfied that the failure or success of a revolt 
would equally terminate in the ruin of the country. 
While the aristocracy of Berne protects the hap- 
piness, it is superfluous to inquire whether it be 
founded in the rights of man : the economy of 
the state is liberally supplied, without the aid of 
taxes ; and the magistrates must reign with pru- 
dence and equity, since they are unarmed in the 
midst of an armed nation. 

The revenue of Berne, excepting some small 
duties, is derived from church lands, tithes, feudal 
rights, and interest of money. The republic has 
nearly 500,000/. sterling in the English funds, and 
the amount of their treasure is unknown to the 
citizens themselves. For myself (may the omen 
be averted !) I can only declare, that the first stroke 
of a rebel drum would be the signal of my imme- 
diate departure. 



302 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. x. 

When I contemplate the common lotof'mortalitv, 
I must acknowledge that I have drawn a high 
prize in the lottery of life. The far greater part of 
the globe is overspread with barbarism or slavery ; 
in the civilised world, the most numerous class is 
condemned to ignorance and poverty ; and the 
double fortune of my birth in a free and enlightened 
country, in an honourable and wealthy family, is 
the lucky chance of an unit against millions. The 
general probability is about three to one, that a 
new-born infant, will not live to complete his 
fiftieth year. 19 I have now passed that age, and 
may fairly estimate the present value of my ex- 
istence in the three-fold division of mind, body, 
and estate. 

1. The first and indispensable requisite of hap- 
piness is a clear conscience, unsullied by the 
reproach or remembrance of an unworthy action. 

Hie mums ahcneus esto, 

Nil conscire sibi, nulla pallescere culpa. 

I am endowed with a cheerful temper, a mo- 
derate sensibility, and a natural disposition to repose 
rather than to activity ; some mischievous appetites 
and habits have perhaps been corrected by philo- 
sophy or time. The love of study, a passion which 
derives fresh vigour from enjoyment, supplies each 
day, each hour, with a perpetual source of inde- 
pendent and rational pleasure ; and I am not sen- 
sible of any decay of the mental faculties. The 



" See BufFon, Supplement a I'Histoire Naturelle, torn. vii. page 158 
— 164 : of ;i given number <>i' new-born infants, one half, by the fault of 
nature <>r man, is extinguished before the age of puberty and reason — 
A melancholy c dculation ! 



CHAP. X. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 303 

original soil has been highly improved by cultiva- 
tion ; but. it may be questioned, whether some 
flowers of fancy, some grateful errors, have not 
been eradicated with the weeds of prejudice. 
2. Since I have escaped from the long perils of my 
childhood, the serious advice of a physician has 
seldom been requisite. " The madness of super- 
fluous health " I have never known, but my tender 
constitution has been fortified by time, and the in- 
estimable gift of the sound and peaceful slumbers 
of infancy, may be imputed both to the mind and 
body. 3. I have already described the merits of 
my society and situation ; but these enjoyments 
would be tasteless or bitter if their possession were 
not assured by an annual and adequate supply. 
According to the scale of Switzerland, I am a rich 
man ; and I am indeed rich, since my income is 
superior to my expense, and my expense is equal 
to my wishes. My friend Lord Sheffield has kindly 
relieved me from the cares to which my taste and 
temper are most adverse : shall I add, that since 
the failure of my first wishes, I have never enter- 
tained any serious thoughts of a matrimonial con- 
nection ? 

I am disgusted with the affectation of men of 
letters, who complain that they have renounced a 
substance for a shadow, and that their fame (which 
sometimes is no insupportable weight) affords a 
poor compensation for envy, censure, and perse- 
cution. 20 My own experience, at least, has taught 

"° Mr. d'Alembert relates, that as be was walking in the gardens of 
Sans Souci with the King of Prussia, Frederic said to him, " Do you 
see that old woman, a poor weeder, asleep on that sunny bank ? she 
is probably a more happy being than either of us." The king and the 
philosopher may speak for themselves ; for my part, I do not envy the 
old woman. 



301< MEMOIRS OF CHAP.X. 

me a wry different lesson : twenty happy wars 
have been animated by the labour of my history, 
and its success has given me a name, a rank, a cha- 
racter, in the world, to which I .should not other- 
wise have been entitled. The freedom of my 
writings has indeed provoked an implacable tribe ; 
but, as I was safe from the stings, I was soon ac- 
customed to the buzzing of the hornets: my nerves 
are not tremblingly alive, and my literary temper 
is so happily framed, that I am less sensible of pain 
than of pleasure. The rational pride of an author 
may be offended, rather than flattered, by vague 
indiscriminate praise ; but he cannot, he should 
not, be indifferent to the fair testimonies of private 
and public esteem. Even his moral sympathy may 
be gratified by the idea, that now, in the present 
hour, he is imparting some degree of amusement 
or knowledge to his friends in a distant land ; that 
one day his mind will be familiar to the grand- 
children of those who are yet unborn.'- 1 I cannot 
boast of the friendship or favour of princes ; the pa- 
tronage of English literature has long since been de- 
volved on our booksellers, and the measure of their 
liberality is the least ambiguous test of our common 

-' In the first of ancient or modern romances (Tom Jones) this proud 
sentiment, this feast of fancy, is enjoyed In the genius oi' Fielding. — 
" Come, bright love of fame, &c. fill my ravished fancj with the hopes 
of charming ages yet to come. Foretel me that some tender maid, 
whose grandmother is yet unborn, hereafter, when, under the fictitious 
name of Sophia, she reads the real worth which onee existed in my 
Charlotte, shall from her sympathetic breast send forth the heaving 
sigh. Do thou teach me not only to foresee but to enjoy, na\ even 

to feed on future praise. Comfort me In the solium asMiranee that, 
when the little parlour in which 1 sit at this moment, shall be reduced 
to a worse furnished box, 1 shall be read with honour In those who 

never knew nor saw me, and whom I shall neither know nor see," 
r.ook siii. chap. I. 



CHAP. X. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 305 

success. Perhaps the golden mediocrity of my 
fortune has contributed to fortify my application. 

The present is a fleeting moment, the past is no 
more ; and our prospect of futurity is dark and 
doubtful. This day may possibly be my last : but 
the laws of probability, so true in general, so falla- 
cious in particular, still allow about fifteen years. 22 
I shall soon enter into the period which, as the 
most agreeable of his long life, was selected by 
the judgment and experience of the sage Fon- 
tenelle. His choice is approved by the eloquent 
historian of nature, who fixes our moral happiness 
to the mature season, in which our passions are sup- 
posed to be calmed, our duties fulfilled, our ambi- 
tion satisfied, our fame and fortune established 
on a solid basis. 23 In private conversation, that 
great and amiable man added the weight of his 
own experience ; and this autumnal felicity might 
be exemplified in the lives of Voltaire, Hume, and 
many other men of letters. I am far more in- 
clined to embrace than to dispute this comfortable 
doctrine. I will not suppose any premature decay 
of the mind or body; but I must reluctantly 
observe that two causes, the abbreviation of time, 
and the failure of hope, will always tinge with a 
browner shade the evening of life. 24 



22 Mr. Buffon, from our disregard of the possibility of death within 
the four-and-twenty hours, concludes that a chance, which falls below 
or rises above ten thousand to one, will never affect the hopes or fears 
of a reasonable man. The fact is true, but our courage is the effect of 
thoughtlessness, rather than of reflection. If a public lottery were drawn 
for the choice of an immediate victim, and if our name were inscribed 
on one of the ten thousand tickets, should we be perfectly easy ? 

23 See Buffon. 

2 * The proportion of a part to the whole is the only standard by 
which we can measure the length o^ our existence. At the age of 



306 MEMOIRS 01 MY LIFE AND WHITINGS. 



NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 

No. 1. page 283. 
Edward Gibbon, Esq. to the Bight Hon. Lord Shtffield. 

It is needless to repeat the reflections which we have sometimes de- 
bated together, and which I have often seriously weighed in my silent 
solitary walks. Notwithstanding your active and ardent spirits, you 
must allow that there is some perplexity in my present situation, and 
that my future prospects are distant and cloudy. I have lived too long 
in the world to entertain a very sanguine idea of the friendship or zeal 
of ministerial patrons ; and we are all sensible how much the powers 
of patronage are reduced. ****** 

At the end of the Parliament, or rather long before that time (for 
their lives are not worth a year's purchase), our ministers are kicked 
down stairs, and I am left their disinterested friend, to fight through 
another opposition, and to expect the fruits of another revolution. 
But I will take a more favourable supposition, and conceive myself in 
six months firmly seated at the Board of Customs ; before the end of 
the next six months 1 should infallibly hang myself. Instead of re- 
gretting my disappointment, I rejoice in my escape ; as I am satisfied 
that no salary could pay me for the irksomeness of attendance, and the 

twenty, one year is a tenth, perhaps, of the time which has elapsed 
within our consciousness and memory : at the age of fifty it is no more 
than the fortieth, and this relative value continues to decrease till the 
last sands are shaken by the hand of death. This reasoning may seem 
metaphysical; but on a trial it will be found satisfactory and just. 
The warm desires, the long expectations of youth are founded on the 
ignorance of themselves and of the world : they are gradually damped 
by time and experience, by disappointment and possession ; and after the 
middle season the crowd must be content to remain at the foot of the 
mountain ; while the few who have climbed the summit aspire to de- 
scend or expect to fall. In old age the consolation of hope is reserved 
for the tenderness of parents who commence a new life in their chil- 
dren : the faith of enthusiasts, who sing hallelujahs above the clouds; 
and the vanitj of authors, who presume the immortality of their name 
and writings.* 

* It is melancholy to think that which his confessed inability to 
Gibbon found no place for the comprehend the real nature, con- 
confidence with which the rational firms, rather than weakens, his 
Christian looks forward to the en- humble reliance on its certainty. 
joymenl of another and a higher — M. 
state of existence; that state of 



CHAP. X. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 307 

drudgery of business so repugnant to my taste (and I will dare to say) 
so unworthy of my character. Without looking forwards to the possi- 
bility, still more remote, of exchanging that laborious office for a smaller ' 
annuity, there is surely another plan, more reasonable, more simple, 
and more pleasant; a temporary retreat to a quiet and less expensive, 
scene. In a four years' residence at Lausanne, I should live within my 
income, save, and even accumulate, my ready money; finish my History, 
an object of profit, as well as fame, expect the contingencies of elderly 
lives, and return to England at the age of fifty, to form a lasting inde- 
pendent establishment, without courting the smiles of a minister, or 
apprehending the downfal of a party. Such have been my serious sober 
reflections. Yet I much question, whether I should have found courage 
to follow my reason and my inclination, if a friend had not stretched 
his hand to draw me out of the dirt. The twentieth of last May I 
wrote to my friend Deyverdun, after a long interval of silence, to expose 
my situation, and to consult in what manner I might best arrange my- 
self at Lausanne. From his answer, which I received about a fortnight 
ago, I have the pleasure to learn, that his heart and his house are both 
open for my reception ; that a family which he had lodged for some 
years is about to leave him, and that at no other time my company 
could have been so acceptable and convenient. I shall step at my 
arrival into an excellent apartment and a delightful situation ; the fair 
division of our expenses will render them very moderate, and I shall 
pass my time with the companion of my youth, whose temper and 
studies have always been congenial to my own. I have given him my 
word of honour to be at Lausanne in the beginning of October, and 
no power or persuasion can divert me from this irrevocable reso- 
lution, which I am every day proceeding to execute. 

No. 2. page 29L 

OCCASIONAL STANZAS, by Mr. Hayley, read after the dinner 
at Mr. Cadell's, May 8. 1788 ; being the day of the publication oft/ie 
three last volumes of Mr. Gibbon's History, and his birth-day. 

Genii of England, and of Rome ! 
In mutual triumph here assume 

The honours each may claim ! 
This social scene with smiles survey! 
And consecrate the festive day 

To Friendship and to Fame ! 

Enough, by Desolation's tide, 
With anguish, and indignant pride, 

Has Rome bewail'd her fate ; 
And.mourn'd that Time, in Havoc's hour, 
Defaced each monument of power 

To speak her truly great : 

x 2 



308 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WHITINGS. 

O'er maim'd Polybh s, just and sage, 

< >Yr LlVl 'fi iniitilati . 

1 |..v. deep waa her regret! 
Touch'd by this Queen, in ruin grand. 
See ! Glory, by an English hand, 

Now pays a mighty debt : 
Lo ! sacred to the Roman Name, 
And raised, like Rome's immortal Fame, 

By Genius and by Toil, 
The splendid Work is crown'd to-day, 
On which Oblivion ne'er shall prey, 

Not Envy make her spoil ! 
England, exult ! and view not now 
With jealous glance each nation's brow, 

Where History's palm has spread I 
In every path of liberal art, 
Thy Sons to prime distinction start, 

And no superior dread. 
Science for Thee a Newton raised ; 
For thy renown a Shakseeare blazed, 

Lord of the drama's sphere ! 
In different fields to equal praise 
See History now thy GIBBON raise 

To shine without a peer ! 
Eager to honour living worth, 
And bless to-day the double birth, 

That proudest joy may claim, 
Let artless Truth this homage pay, 
And consecrate the festive day 

To Friendship and to Fame ! 

No. 3. page "294. 

Gibbon's manifest delight at the flat adulation of his poetical admirer 
is better proof of his gratitude than of his taste. The following pleasing 
thought relieves the general dulness of Hay ley's eulogy on Gibbon, in 
his " Essay on History." After denouncing the polemic rancour of 
Gibbon's adversaries, he begins himself blandly to remonstrate against 
the profane tendency of his writings. 

Humility herself, divinely mild, 
Sublime Religion's meek and modest child, 
Like the dumb son of Croesus in the strife, 
Where Force assail'd his father's sacred life, 
Breaks silence, and with filial duty warm. 
Bids thee revere her parent's hallow'd form. 

Essay on History, iii. 379. 
M. 



:HAP. X. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 309 

No. 4! page 294. 
SONNET TO EDWARD GIBBON, Esq. 
On the publication of his Second and Third Volumes, 1781. 
With proud delight th' imperial founder gazed 

On the new beauty of his second Rome, 
When on his eager eye rich temples blazed, 

And his fair city rose in youthful bloom : 
A pride more noble may thy heart assume, 

O Gibbon ! gazing on thy growing work, 
In which, constructed for a happier doom, 

No hasty marks of vain ambition lurk : 
Thou niay'st deride both Time's destructive sway, 

And baser Envy's beauty-mangling dirk ; 
Thy gorgeous fabric, plann'd with wise delay, 

Shall baffle foes more savage than the Turk ; 
As ages multiply, its fame shall rise, 
And earth must perish ere its splendour dies. 

No. 5. page 294. 

A CARD OF INVITATION TO MR. GIBBON AT BRIGHTHELMSTONE, 

1781. 

An English sparrow, pert and free, 
Who chirps beneath his native tree, 
Hearing the Roman eagle's near, 
And feeling more respect than fear, 
Thus, with united love and awe, 
Invites him to his shed of straw. 

Tho' he is but a twittering sparrow, 
The field he hops in rather narrow, 
When nobler plumes attract his view 
He ever pays them homage due, 
He looks with reverential wonder, 
On him whose talons bear the thunder ; 
Nor could the Jackdaws e'er inveigle 
His voice to vilify the eagle, 
Tho' issuing from the holy towers, 
In which they build their warmest bowers, 
Their sovereign's haunt they slyly search, 
In hopes to catch him on his perch 
(For Pindar says, beside his God 
The thunder-bearing bird will nod), 
Then, peeping round his still retreat, 
They pick from underneath his feet 

x 3 



310 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WHITINGS. 

Some molted feather be lets fall, 

And swear he cannot tl\ at all. 

Lord of the sk\ ! whose pounce can tear 
These croakers, that infest the air, 

Trust him ! the sparrow loves to sing 
The praise of thy imperial wing! 

He thinks thon'lt deem him, on his word, 
An honest, though familiar bird ; 
And hopes thou soon wilt condescend 
To look upon thy little friend ; 
That he may boast around his grove 
A visit from the bird of Jove. 

No. G. page 295. 

" Mr. Gibbon's industry is indefatigable ; his accuracy scrupulous ; his 
reading, which is sometimes ostentatiously displayed, immense ; his at- 
tention always awake ; his memory retentive ; his style emphatic and 
expressive ; his sentences harmonious ; his reflections are just and pro- 
found ; nor does his humanity ever slumber, unless when women are 
ravished, or the Christians persecuted. He often makes, when he can- 
not find, an occasion to insult our religion, which he hates so cordially 
that he might seem to revenge some personal injury. Such is his 
eagerness in the cause, that he stoops to the most despicable pun, or 
to the most awkward perversion of language, for the pleasure of turning 
the Scripture into ribaldry, or of calling Jesus an, impostor. Though 
his style is in general correct and elegant, he sometimes draws out 
" the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument." In 
endeavouring to avoid vulgar terms he too frequently dignifies trifles, 
and clothes common thoughts in a splendid dress, that would be rich 
enough for the noblest ideas. In short, we are too often reminded of 
that great man, Mr. Prig the auctioneer, whose manner was so inimi- 
tably fine, that he had as much to say upon a ribbon as a Raphael. 

" A less pardonable fault is that rage for indecency which pervades 
the whole work, but especially the last volumes; and to the honour of 
his consistency, this is the same man who is so prudish that he does 
not call Belisarius a cuckold, because it is too bad a word for a decent 
historian to use. If the history were anonymous, I should guess that 
those disgraceful obscenities were written In some debauchee, who, 
having from age, or accident, or excess, survived the practices of lust, 
still indulged himself in the luxury of speculation, and exposed the im- 
potent imbecillity, after he had lost the vigour,of his passions." — Porsop, 
Letters to Travis. 

Gibbon showed some forbearance in his allusion to the " bitter-sweet" 
of this criticism. The professor's own habits, and, unless he is much 
belied, the style of his conversation, laid him open to some retaliation, 
when he assumed the tone of a moi il and religious censor. — M. 



311 



When I first undertook to prepare Mr. Gibbon's 
Memoirs for the press, I supposed that it would be 
necessary to introduce some continuation of them, 
from the time when they cease, namely, soon after 
his return to Switzerland in the year I788 ; but the 
examination of his correspondence with me sug- 
gested, that the best continuation would be the 
publication of his letters from that time to his 
death. I shall thus give more satisfaction, by em- 
ploying the language of Mr. Gibbon, instead of 
my own ; and the public will see him in a new and 
admirable light, as a writer of letters. By the in- 
sertion of a few occasional sentences, I shall ob- 
viate the disadvantages that are apt to arise from 
an interrupted narration. A prejudiced or a fasti- 
dious critic may condemn, perhaps, some parts of 
the letters as trivial ; but many readers, I flatter 
myself, will be gratified by discovering, even in 
these, my friend's affectionate feelings, and his cha- 
racter in familiar life. His letters in general bear 
a strong resemblance to the style and turn of his 
conversation ; the characteristics of which were 
vivacity, elegance, and precision, with knowledge 
astonishingly extensive and correct. He never 
ceased to be instructive and entertaining ; and in 
general there was a vein of pleasantry in his con- 
versation which prevented its becoming languid, 
x 4 



SIS 

even during a residence of many months with a 
family in the country. 

It has been supposed that lie always arranged 
what he intended to say before he spoke ; his 
quickness in conversation contradicts this notion : 
but it is very true, that before he sat down to write 
a note or letter, he completely arranged in his 
mind what he meant to express. He pursued the 
same method in respect to other composition ; and 
he occasionally would walk several times about his 
apartment before he had rounded a period to his 
taste. He has pleasantly remarked to me, that it 
sometimes cost him many a turn before he could 
throw a sentiment into a form that gratified his 
own criticism. His systematic habit of arrange- 
ment in point of style, assisted, in his instance, by 
an excellent memory and correct judgment, is 
much to be recommended to those who aspire to 
perfection in writing. 

Although the Memoirs extend beyond the time 
of Mr. Gibbon's return to Lausanne, I shall insert 
a few letters, written immediately after his arrival 
there, and combine them so far as to include even 
the last note which he wrote a few days previously 
to his death. Some of them contain few incidents ; 
but they connect and carry on the account either 
of his opinions or of his employment. — S. 



313 
LETTERS 

FROM 

EDWARD GIBBON, ESQ. 

TO 

THE RIGHT HON. LORD SHEFFIELD. 






Lausanne, July 30. 1788. — Wednesday, 3 o'clock. 

I have but a moment to say, before the departure 
of the post, that after a very pleasant journey I ar- 
rived here about half an hour ago ; that I am as well 
arranged as if I had never stirred from this place ; 
and that dinner on the table is just announced. 
Severy I dropt at his country-house about two 
leagues off. I just saluted the family, who dine 
with me the day after to-morrow, and return to 
town for some days, I hope weeks, on my account. 
The son is an amiable and grateful youth ; and even 
this journey has taught me to know and to love 
him still better. My satisfaction would be com- 
plete, had I not found a sad and serious alteration 
in poor Deyverdun : but thus our joys are che- 
quered ! I embrace all ; and at this moment feel 
the last pang of our parting at Tunbridge. Convey 
this letter or information, without delay, from 
Sheffield-place to Bath. In a few days I shall 
write more amply to both places. 



31 1< LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON 

October I. 1788. 

After such an act of vigour as my first letter, 
composed, finished, and dispatched within half an 
hour after my landing, while the dinner was smo- 
king on the table, your knowledge of the animal 
must have taught you to expect a proportionable 
degree of relaxation ; and you will be satisfied to 
hear, that, for many Wednesdays and Saturdays, I 
have consumed more time than would have suf- 
ficed for the epistle, in devising reasons for pro- 
crastinating it to the next post. At this very mo- 
ment I begin so very late, as I am just going to 
dress, and dine in the country, that I can take 
only the benefit of the date, October the first, and 
must be content to seal and send my letter next 
Saturday. 

October 4th. 

Saturday is now arrived, and I much doubt 
whether I shall have time to finish. I rose, as 
usual, about seven : but as I knew I should have 
so much time, you know it would have been ridi- 
culous to begin any thing before breakfast When 
I returned from my breakfast-room to the library, 
unluckily I found on the table some new and in- 
teresting books, which instantly caught my atten- 
tion ; and without injuring my correspondent, I 
could safely bestow a single hour to gratify my 
curiosity. Some things which I found in them 
insensibly led me to other books, and other in- 
quiries ; the morning has stolen away, and I shall 
be soon summoned to dress and dine with the two 
Severys, lather and son, who are returned from the 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 315 

country on a disagreeable errand, an illness of 
Madame, from which she is however recovering. 
Such is the faithful picture of my mind and man- 
ners, and from a single day disce omnes. After 
having been so long chained to the oar, in a splen- 
did galley indeed, I freely and fairly enjoy my li- 
berty as I promised in my preface ; range without 
control over the wide expanse of my library ; con- 
verse, as my fancy prompts me, with poets and his- 
torians, philosophers and orators, of every age and 
language ; and often indulge my meditations in the 
invention and arrangement of mighty works, which 
I shall probably never find time or application to 
execute. My garden, berceau, and pavilion often 
varied the scene of my studies ; the beautiful 
weather which we have enjoyed exhilarated my 
spirits, and I again tasted the wisdom and happiness 
of my retirement, till that happiness was interrupted 
by a very serious calamity, which took from me for 
above a fortnight all thoughts of study, of amuse- 
ment, and even of correspondence. I mentioned 
in my first letter the uneasiness I felt at poor 
Deyverdun's declining health, how much the plea- 
sure of my life was embittered by the sight of a 
suffering and languid friend. The joy of our 
meeting appeared at first to revive him ; and though 
not satisfied, I began to think, at least to hope, 
that he was every day gaining ground ; when, alas ! 
one morning I was suddenly recalled from my 
berceau to the house, with the dreadful intelligence 
of an apoplectic stroke ; I found him senseless : 
the best assistance was instantly collected ; and 
he had the aid of the genius and experience of 



SlO LETTERS FROM MR. DIBBON 

Mr. Tissot, and of the assiduous care of another 
physician, who for some time scarcely quitted his 
bedside either night or day. While I was in 
momentary dread of a relapse, with a confession 
from his physicians that such a relapse must be 
fatal, you will feel that I was much more to be 
pitied than my friend. At length, art or nature 
triumphed over the enemy of life. I was soon 
assured that all immediate danger was past ; and 
now for many days I have had the satisfaction of 
seeing him recover, though by slow degrees, his 
health and strength, his sleep and appetite. He 
now walks about the garden, and receives his par- 
ticular friends, but has not yet gone abroad. His 
future health will depend very much upon his own 
prudence : but, at all events, this has been a very 
serious warning ; and the slightest indisposition 
will hereafter assume a very formidable aspect. 
But let us turn from this melancholy subject. The 
Man of the People escaped from the tumult, the 
bloody tumult of the Westminster election, to 
the lakes and mountains of Switzerland, and I 
was informed that he was arrived at the Lyon 
d'Or. I sent a compliment; he answered it in per- 
son, and settled at my house for the remainder of 
the day. I have eat and drank, and conversed and 
sat up all night, with Fox in England; but it never 
has happened, perhaps it never can happen again, 
that I should enjoy him as I did that day, alone, 
from ten in the morning till ten at night. Poor 
Deyverdun, before his accident, wanted spirits to 
appear, and has regretted it since. Our conver- 
sation never flagged a moment ; and he seemed 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 317 

thoroughly pleased with the place and with his 
company. We had little politics ; though he gave 
me, in a few words, such a character of Pitt, as 
one great man should give of another his rival : 
much of books, from my own, on which he flat- 
tered me very pleasantly, to Homer and the 
Arabian Nights : much about the country, my 
garden (which he understands far better than I 
do), and, upon the whole, I think he envies me, 
and would do so were he a minister. The next 
morning I gave him a guide to walk him about the 
town and country, and invited some company to 
meet him at dinner. The following day he con- 
tinued his journey to Berne and Zurich, and I 
have heard of him by various means. The people 
gaze on him as a prodigy, but he shows little in- 
clination to converse with them. The wit and 
beauty of his companion are not sufficient to ex- 
cuse the scandalous impropriety of showing her to 
all Europe ; and you will not easily conceive how 
he has lost himself in the public opinion, which 
was already more favourable to his rival. Will 
Fox never learn the importance of character ? — 
Far different has been the conduct of our friend 
Douglas '; he has been curious, attentive, agree- 
able ; and in every place where he has resided 
some days, he has left acquaintance who esteem 
and regret him ; I never knew so clear and gene- 
ral an impression. 

After this long letter I have yet many things to 
say, though none of any pressing consequence. 
I hope you are not idle in the deliverance of Beri- 

i Lord Glenbervie. 



318 LETTERS PROM Mil. GIllBOX 

ton, though the late events and edicts in France 
begin to reconcile me to the possession of dirty 
acres. What think you of Necker and the States 
General? Are not the public expectations too 
sanguine ? Adieu. I will write soon to my lady 
separately, though I have not any particular sub- 
ject for her ear. Ever yours. 

Lausanne, Nov. 29. 1788. 

As I have no correspondents but yourself, I should 
have been reduced to the stale and stupid com- 
munications of the newspapers, if you had not dis- 
patched me an excellent sketch of the extraordinary 
state of things. In so new a case the salus populi 
must be the first law ; and any extraordinary acts of 
the two remaining branches of the legislature must 
be excused by necessity, and ratified by general 
consent. Till things are settled, I expect a regular 
journal. 

From kingdoms I descend to farms. * * * 

* * * *. Adieu. 

Lausanne, Dec. 13. 1788. 

* *. Of public affairs I can only hear with 
curiosity and wonder ; careless as you may think 
me, I feel myself deeply interested. You must 
now write often ; make Miss Firth copy any cu- 
rious fragments ; and stir up any of my well-in- 
formed acquaintance, Batt, Douglas, Adams, per- 
haps Lord Loughborough, to correspond with me j 
I will answer them. 

M'c are now cold and gay at Lausanne. The 






TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 319 

Severys came to town yesterday. I saw a good 
deal of Lords Malmsbury and Beauchamp, and 
their ladies 1 ; Ellis, of the Rolliad, was with them ; 
I like him much : I gave them a dinner. 

Adieu for the present. Dey verdun is not worse. 

Lausanne, April 25. 1789. 

Before your letter, which I received yesterday, 
I was in the anxious situation of a king, who 
hourly expects a courier from his general, with the 
news of a decisive engagement. I had abstained 
from writing, for fear of dropping a word, or be- 
traying a feeling, which might render you too 
cautious or too bold. On the famous 8th of April, 
between twelve and two, I reflected that the busi- 
ness was determined ; and each succeeding day I 
computed the speedy approach of your messenger, 
with favourable or melancholy tidings. When I 
broke the seal I expected to read, " What a 
damned unlucky fellow you are ! Nothing tole- 
rable was offered, and I indignantly withdrew the 
estate." I did remember the fate of poor Lenbo- 
rough, and I was afraid of your magnanimity, &c. 
It is whimsical enough, but it is human nature, 
that I now begin to think of the deep-rooted found- 
ations of land, and the airy fabric of the funds. 
I not only consent, but even wish to have, eight 
or ten thousand pounds on a good mortgage. The 
pipe of wine you sent to me was seized, and would 

1 George Ellis, Esq. at a later period the friend of Sir Walter Scott. (See 
Lockhart's Life.) It is remarkable that, with Mr. Ellis should have ori- 
ginated the two, perhaps most successful, collections of political poetry 
in the language, the Rolliad and the poetry of the Antijacobin. The 
change in the times will account for their different political views. — M. 



320 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON 

have been confiscated, if the government of Berne 
had not treated me with the most flattering and 
distinguished civility : they not only released the 
wine, but they paid out of their own pocket the 
shares to which the bailiff and the informer were 
entitled by law. I should not forget that the 
bailiff refused to accept of his part. Poor Deyver- 
dun's constitution is quite broken ; he has had two 
or three attacks, not so violent as the first ; every 
time the door is hastily opened, I expect to hear 
of some fatal accident : the best or worst hopes of 
the physicians are only that he may linger some 
time longer ; but if he lives till the summer, they 
propose sending him to some mineral waters at 
Aix, in Savoy. You will be glad to hear that 1 
am now assured of possessing, during my life, this 
delightful house and garden. The act has been 
lately executed in the best form, and the hand- 
somest manner. I know not what to say of your 
miracles at home ; we rejoice in the king's reco- 
very, and its ministerial consequences ; and I can- 
not be insensible to the hope, at least the chance, 
of seeing in this country a first lord of trade, or 
secretary at war. In your answer, which I shall 
impatiently expect, you will give me a full and 
true account of your designs, which by this time 
must have dropt, or be determined at least, for the 
present year. If you come, it is high time that 
we should look out for a house — a task much less 
easy than you may possibly imagine. Among 
new books, I recommend to you the Count de 
Mirabeau's great work, " Sur la Monarchic Prus- 
sienne ; " it is in your own way, and gives a very 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 321 

just and complete idea of that wonderful machine. 
His " Correspondence Secrete " is diabolically 
good. Adieu. Ever yours. 

Lausanne, June 13. 1789. 

You are in truth a wise, active, indefatigable, 
and inestimable friend ; and as our virtues are often 
connected with our failings, if you were more tame 
and placid you would be perhaps of less use and 
value. A very important and difficult transaction 
seems to be nearly terminated with success and 
mutual satisfaction : we seem to run before the 
wind with a prosperous gale ; and unless we 
should strike on some secret rocks which I do not 
foresee, shall, on or before the 31st of July, enter 
the harbour of Content ; though I cannot pursue 
the metaphor by adding we shall land, since our 
operation is of a very opposite tendency. I could 
not easily forgive myself for shutting you up in a 
dark room with parchments and attorneys, did I 
not reflect that this probably is the last material 
trouble that you will ever have on my account ; 
and that after the labours and delays of twenty 
years, I shall at last attain what I have always 
sighed for, a clear and competent income, above 
my wants, and equal to my wishes. In this con- 
templation you will be sufficiently rewarded. I 
hope ***** will be content with our title-deeds, 
for I cannot furnish another shred of parchment. 
Mrs. Gibbon's jointure is secured on the Beriton 
estate, and her legal consent is requisite for the 
sale. Again and again I must repeat my hope that 
she is perfectly satisfied, and that the close of her 



6 L Z L Z LETTERS FROM .MR. GIBBON 

life may not be embittered by suspicion, or fear, or 
discontent. What new security does she prefer, — 
the funds, the mortgage, or your land? At all 
events she must be made easy. I wrote to her 
again some time ago, and begged that if she were 
too weak to write, she would desire Mrs. Gould 
or Mrs. Holroyd to give me a line concerning her 
state of health. To this no answer : I am afraid 
she is displeased. 

Now for the disposal of the money : I approve 
of the 8,000/. mortgage on Beriton ; and honour 
your prudence in not showing, by the comparison 
of the rent and interest, how foolish it is to pur- 
chase land, ******** 
* # ## ####### 

There is a chance of my drawing a considerable 
sum into this country, for an arrangement which 
you yourself must approve, but which I have not 
time to explain at present. For the sake of 
dispatching, by this evening's post, an answer to 
your letter which arrived this morning, I confine 
myself to the needful ; but in the course of a few 
days, I will send a more familiar epistle. Adieu. 
Ever yours. 

Lausanne, July 14-. 17S9. 

Poor Deyverdun is no more ; he expired Satur- 
day the 4th instant ; and in his unfortunate situ- 
ation, death could only be viewed by himself, 
and by his friends, in the light of a consummation 
devoutly to be wished. Since September he has 
had a dozen apopletic strokes, more or less violent : 
in the intervals between them his strength gradu- 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 323 

ally decayed ; every principle of life was exhausted ; 
and had he continued to drag a miserable existence, 
he must probably have survived the loss of his fa- 
culties. Of all misfortunes this was what he him- 
self most apprehended ; but his reason was clear 
and calm to the last ; he beheld his approaching 
dissolution with the firmness of a philosopher. I 
fancied that time and reflection had prepared me 
for the event : but the habits of three-and- thirty- 
years' friendship are not so easily broken. The 
first days, and more especially the first nights, 
were indeed painful. Last Wednesday and Satur- 
day it would not have been in my power to write. 
I must now recollect myself, since it is necessary 
for me not only to impart the news, but to ask 
your opinion in a very serious and doubtful ques- 
tion, which must be decided without loss of time. 
I shall state the facts, but as I am on the spot, 
and as new lights may occur, I do not promise 
implicit obedience. 

Had my poor friend died without a will, a 
female first cousin settled somewhere in the north 
of Germany, and whom I believe he had never 
seen, would have been his heir at law. In the 
next degree he had several cousins ; and one of 
these, an old companion, by name Mr. de Mon- 
tagny, he has chosen for his heir. As this house 
and garden was the best and clearest part of poor 
Deyverdun's fortune ; as there is a heavy duty or 
fine (what they call lods) on every change of pro- 
perty out of the legal descent ; as Montagny has a 
small estate and a large family, it was necessary 
to make some provision in his favour. The will 
y 2 



324 LETTERS PROM MR. GIBBON 

therefore leaves me the option of enjoying this 
place during my life, on paying the sum of 2501, 
(I reckon in English money) at present, and an 
annual rent of 80/.; or else, of purchasing the 
house and garden for a sum which, including the 
duty, will amount to 2,500/. If I value the rent 
of 30/. at twelve years' purchase, I may acquire 
my enjoyment for life at about the rate of 000/. ; 
and the remaining 1,900/. will he the difference 
between that tenure and absolute perpetual pro- 
perty. As you have never accused me of too much 
zeal for the interest of posterity, you will easily 
guess which scale at first preponderated. I deeply 
felt the advantage of acquiring for the smaller 
sum, every possible enjoyment, as long as I my- 
self should be capable of enjoying : I rejected 
with scorn, the idea of giving 1,900/. for ideal 
posthumous property ; and I deemed it of little 
moment whose name, after my death, should be 
inscribed on my house and garden at Lausanne. 
How often did I repeat to myself the philoso- 
phical lines of Pope, which seem to determine the 
question : 

Pray Heaven, cries Swift, it last as you go on ; 

I wish to God this house had been your own. 

Pity to build without or son or \\ ife ; 

Why, you'll enjoy it only all your life. 

Well, if the use be mine, does it concern one, 

Whether the name belong to Pope or Vernon? 

In this state of self-satisfaction I was not much 
disturbed by all my real or nominal friends, who 
exhort me to prefer the right of purchase : among 
such friends, some are careless and some are igno- 
rant ; and the judgment of those who are able and 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 3 C 25 

willing to form an opinion, is often biassed by 
some selfish or social affection, by some visible or 
invisible interest. But my own reflections have 
gradually and forcibly driven me from my first pro- 
pensity ; and these reflections I will now proceed 
to enumerate : 

1. I can make this purchase with ease and pru- 
dence. As I have had the pleasure of not hearing 
from you very lately, I flatter myself that you ad- 
vance on a carpet road, and that almost by the 
receipt of this letter (July 31st) the acres of 
Beriton will be transmuted into sixteen thousand 
pounds : if the payment be not absolutely com- 
pleted by that day, ****** will not scruple, I sup- 
pose, depositing the 2,600/. at Gosling's, to meet 
my draught. Should he hesitate, I can desire 
Darrel to sell quantum sufficit of my short annuities. 
As soon as the new settlement of my affairs is 
made, I shall be able, after deducting this sum, to 
square my expense to my income, &c. 

2. On mature consideration, I am perhaps less 
selfish and less philosophical than I appear at first 
sight ; indeed, were I not so, it would now be in 
my power to turn my fortune into life-annuities, 
and let the Devil take the hindmost. I feel (per- 
haps it is foolish), but I feel that this little para- 
dise will please me still more when it is absolutely 
my own ; and that I shall be encouraged in every 
improvement of use or beauty, by the prospect 
that, after my departure, it will be enjoy ed by 
some person of my own choice. I sometimes 
reflect with pleasure, that my writings will sur- 

y 3 



3Q6 



LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON 



Vive me ; and that idea is at least as vain and 
chimerical. 

3. The heir, Mr. de Montagny, is an old ac- 
quaintance. My situation of a life-holder is rather 
new and singular in this country : the laws have 
not provided for many nice cases which may arise 
between the landlord and tenant ; some I can 
foresee, others have been suggested, many more I 
might feel when it would be too late. His right 
of property might plague and confine me ; he 
might forbid my lending to a friend, inspect my 
conduct, check my improvements, call for secu- 
rities, repairs, &c. But if I purchase, I walk on 
my own terrace fierce and erect, the free master of 
one of the most delicious spots on the globe. 

Should I ever migrate homewards (you stare, 
but such an event is less improbable than I could 
have thought it two years ago), this place would 
be disputed by strangers and natives. 

Weigh these reasons, and send me without delay 
a rational explicit opinion, to which I shall pay 
such regard as the nature of circumstances will 
allow But alas ! when all is determined, I shall 
possess this house, by whatsoever tenure, without 
friendship or domestic society. I did not imagine, 
six years ago, that a plan of life so congenial to 
my wishes, would so speedily vanish. I cannot 
write upon any other subject. Adieu. Yours ever. 

Lausanne, August, 1789. 

After receiving and dispatching the power of 
attorney last Wednesday, I opened, with some 
palpitation, the unexpected missive which arrived 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 327 

this morning. The perusal of the contents spoiled 
my breakfast. They are disagreeable in them- 
selves, alarming in their consequences, and pecu- 
liarly unpleasant at the present moment, when I 
hoped to have formed and secured the arrange- 
ments of my future life. I do not perfectly 
understand what are these deeds which are so in- 
flexibly required ; the wills and marriage- settle- 
ments I have sufficiently answered. But your 
arguments do not convince # * * *, and I have very 
little hope from the Lenborough search. What 
will be the event ? If his objections are only the 
result of legal scrupulosity, surely they might be 
removed, and every chink might be filled, by a 
general bond of indemnity, in which I boldly ask 
you to join, as it will be a substantial important 
act of friendship, without any possible risk to 
yourself or your successors. Should he still remain 
obdurate, I must believe, what I already suspect, 
that * * * * repents of his purchase, and wishes to 
elude the conclusion. Our case would be then 
hopeless, ibi omnis effusus labor, and the estate 
would be returned on our hands with the taint of 
a bad title. The refusal of mortgage does not 
please me ; but surely our offer shows some con- 
fidence in the goodness of my title. If he will not 
take eight thousand pounds at four per cent, we 
must look out elsewhere : new doubts and delays 
will arise ; and I am persuaded that you will not 
place an implicit confidence in any attorney. I 
know not as yet your opinion about my Lausanne 
purchase. If you are against it, the present position 
of affairs gives you great advantage, &c. &c. The 
y 4 



3 l 2S LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON 

Severys are all well ; an uncommon circumstance 
for the four persons of the family at once. They 
are now at Mex, a country-house six miles from 
hence, which I visit to-morrow for two or three 
days. They often come to town, and we shall 
contrive to pass a part of the autumn together at 
Kolle. I want to change the scene ; and beautiful 
as the garden and prospect must appear to every 
eye, I feel that the state of my own mind casts a 
gloom over them ; every spot, every walk, every 
bench, recalls the memory of those hours, of those 
conversations, which will return no more. But I 
tear myself from the subject. I could not help 
writing to-day, though I do not find I have said 
any thing very material. As you must be conscious 
that you have agitated me, you will not postpone 
any agreeable or even decisive intelligence. I 
almost hesitate, whether I shall run over to England, 
to consult with you on the spot, and to fly from 
poor Deyverdun's shade, which meets me at every 
turn. 1 did not expect to have felt his loss so 
sharply. But six hundred miles ! Why are we so 
far off? 

Once more, What is the difficulty of the title? 
Will men of sense, in a sensible country, never get 
rid of the tyranny of lawyers ? more oppressive 
and ridiculous than even the old yoke of the 
clergy. Is not a term of seventy or eighty years, 
nearly twenty in my own person, sufficient to 
prove our legal possession ? Will not the records of 
fines and recoveries attest that / am free from any 
bar of entails and settlements? Consult some sage 
of the law, whether their present demand be ue- 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 329 

cessary and legal. If your ground be firm, force 
them to execute the agreement or forfeit the 
deposit. But if, as I much fear, they have a right 
and a wish to elude the consummation, would it 
not be better to release them at once, than to be 
hung up for five years, as in the case of Lovegrove, 
which cost me in the end four or five thousand 
pounds ? You are bold, you are wise ; consult, 
resolve, act. In my penultimate letter I dropped 
a strange hint, that a migration homeward was not 
impossible. I know not what to say ; my mind 
is all afloat ; yet you will not reproach me with 
caprice or inconstancy. How many years did you 
damn my scheme of retiring to Lausanne ? I exe- 
cuted that plan ; I found as much happiness as is 
compatible with human nature, and during four 
years (1783 — 1787) I never breathed a sigh of 
repentance. On my return from England the 
scene was changed: I found only a faint semblance 
of Deyverdun, and that semblance was each day 
fading from my sight. I have passed an anxious 
year, but my anxiety is now at an end, and the 
prospect before me is a melancholy solitude. I am 
still deeply rooted in this country ; the possession 
of this paradise, the friendship of the Severys, a 
mode of society suited to my taste, and the enor- 
mous trouble and expense of a migration. Yet in 
England (when the present clouds are dispelled) I 
could form a very comfortable establishment in 
London, or rather at Bath ; and I have a very noble 
country-seat at about ten miles from East Grin- 
stead in Sussex. 1 That spot is dearer to me than 

1 Alluding to Sheffield-place. 



330 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON 

the rest of the three kingdoms ; and I have some- 
times wondered how two men, so opposite in their 
tempers and pursuits, should have imbibed so long 
and lively a propensity for each other. Sir Stanier 
Porten is just dead. He has left his widow with a 
moderate pension, and two children, my nearest 
relations : the eldest, Charlotte, is about Louisa's 
age, and also a most amiable sensible young crea- 
ture. I have conceived a romantic idea of educat- 
ing and adopting her ; as we descend into the 
vale of years, our infirmities require some domestic 
female society : Charlotte would be the comfort 
of my age, and I could reward her care and ten- 
derness with a decent fortune. A thousand diffi- 
culties oppose the execution of the plan, which I 
have never opened but to you ; yet it would be 
less impracticable in England than in Switzerland. 
Adieu. I am wounded ; pour some oil into my 
wounds : yet I am less unhappy since I have 
thrown my mind upon paper. 

Are you not amazed at the French revolution ? 
They have the power, will they have the modera- 
tion, to establish a good constitution? Adieu. 
Ever yours. 

Lausanne, Sept. 9. 1789. 

Within an hour after the reception of your last, 
I drew my pen for the purpose of a reply, and my 
exordium ran in the following words : " I find by 
experience, that it is much more rational, as well 
as easy, to answer a letter of real business by the 
return of the post." This important truth is again 
verified by my own example. After writing three 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 331 

pages I was called away by a very rational motive, 
and the post departed before I could return to the 
conclusion. A second delay was coloured by some 
decent pretence. Three weeks have slipped away, 
and I now force myself on a task, which I should 
have dispatched without an effort on the first sum- 
mons. My only excuse is, that I had little to 
write about English business, and that I could 
write nothing definitive about my Swiss affairs. 
And first, as Aristotle says of the first, 

1. I was indeed in low spirits when I sent what 
you so justly style my dismal letter ; but I do 
assure you, that my own feelings contributed much 
more to sink me, than any events or terrors relative 
to the sale of Beriton. But I again hope and trust 
from your consolatory epistle, that, &c. &c. 

2. My Swiss transaction has suffered a great 
alteration. I shall not become the proprietor of 
my house and garden at Lausanne, and I relin- 
quish the phantom with more regret than you 
could easily imagine. But I have been determined 
by a difficulty, which at first appeared of little 
moment, but which has gradually swelled to an 
alarming magnitude. There is a law in this 
country, as well in some provinces of France, 
which is styled le droit de retrait, le retrait 
lignagere (Lord Loughborough must have heard 
of it), by which the relations of the deceased are 
entitled to redeem a house or estate at the price 
for which it has been sold ; and as the sum fixed 
by poor Deyverdun is much below its known 
value, a crowd of competitors are beginning to 
start. The best opinions (for they are divided) 



SS2 LFTTERS FROM MR. GIBBON 

are in my favour, that I am not subject to h- droit 
de retrait, since I take not as a purchaser, but as a 

legatee. But the words of the will are somewhat 
ambiguous ; the event of law is always uncertain ; 
the administration of justice at Berne (the last 
appeal) depends too much on favour and intrigue ; 
and it is very doubtful whether I could revert to 
the life-holding, after having chosen and lost the 
property. These considerations engaged me to 
open a negotiation with Mr. de Montagny, 
through the medium of my friend the judge; and 
as he most ardently wishes to keep the house, he 
consented, though with some reluctance, to my 
proposals. Yesterday he signed a covenant in the 
most regular and binding form, by which he 
allows my power of transferring my interest, inter- 
prets in the most ample sense my right of making 
alterations, and expressly renounces all claim, as 
landlord, of visiting or inspecting the premises. I 
have promised to lend him twelve thousand livres, 
(between seven and eight hundred pounds,) 
secured on the house and land. The mortgage is 
four times its value; the interest of four pounds 
per cent, will be annually discharged by the rent 
of thirty guineas ; so that I am now tranquil on 
that score for the remainder of my days. I hope 
that time will gradually reconcile me to the place 
which I have inhabited with my poor friend ; for 
in spite of the cream of London, I am still per- 
suaded that no other place is so well adapted to my 
taste and habits of studious and social life. 

Far from delighting in the whirl of a metropolis, 
my only complaint against Lausanne is the great 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 333 

number of strangers, always of English, and now 
of French, by whom we are infested in summer. 
Yet we have escaped the superlatively great ones, 
the Count d'Artois, the Polignacs, &c. who slip by 
us to Turin. What a scene is France ! While the 
Assembly is voting abstract propositions, Paris is 
an independent republic; the provinces have neither 
authority nor freedom, and poor Necker declares 
that credit is no more, and that the people refuse 
to pay taxes. Yet I think you must be seduced by 
the abolition of tithes. If Eden goes to Paris, you 
may have some curious information. Give me some 
account of Mr. and Mrs. Douglas. Do they live 
with Lord North ? I hope they do. When will 
parliament be dissolved ? Are you still Coventry- 
mad ? I embrace my Lady, the sprightly Maria, 
and the smiling Louisa. 1 Alas ! alas ! you will 
never come to Switzerland. Adieu. Ever yours. 

Lausanne, Sept. 25th, 1789. 

Alas ! what perils do environ 

The man who meddles with cold iron. 

Alas ! what delays and difficulties do attend the 
man who meddles with legal and landed business ! 
Yet if it be only to disappoint your expectation, 
I am not so very nervous at this new provoking 
obstacle. I had totally forgotten the deedin question, 
which was contrived in the last year of my father's 
life, to tie his hands, and regulate the disorder of 

i Maria Josepha Holroyd, eldest daughter of Lord Sheffield, 
married Sir John Thomas Stanley, of Alderley in Cheshire, Baronet; 
and Louisa Dorothea Holroyd married Lieutenant-General William 
Henry Clinton, eldest son of General Sir Henry Clinton, K.B. 



334 LETTERS PROM MR. GIBBON 

his affairs ; and which might have been so easily 

cancelled by s ir Stanier, who had not the smallest 
interest in it, either for himself or his family. The 
amicable suit, which is now become necessary, 
must, I think, be short and unambiguous. Yet I 
cannot help dreading the crotchets that lurk under 
the chancellor's great wig ; and at all events, I 
foresee some additional delay aud expense. The 
golden pill of the two thousand eight hundred 
pounds has soothed my discontent; and if it be 
safely lodged with the Goslings, I agree with you, 
in considering it as an unequivocal pledge of a fair 
and willing purchaser. It is indeed chiefly in that 
light I now rejoice in so large a deposit, which is 
no longer necessary in its full extent. You are 
apprised by my last letter, that I have reduced 
myself to the life- enjoyment of the house and 
garden : and, in spite of my feelings, I am every 
day more convinced that I have chosen the safer 
side. I believe my cause to have been good, but 
it was doubtful. Law in this country is not so ex- 
pensive as in England, but it is more troublesome : 
I must have gone to Berne, have solicited my judges 
in person ; a vile custom ! the event was uncertain ; 
and during at least two years, I should have been 
in a state of suspense and anxiety ; till the con- 
clusion of which it would have been madness to 
have attempted any alteration or improvement. 
According to my present arrangement I shall want 
no more than eleven hundred pounds of the two 
thousand, and I suppose you will direct Gosling to 
lay out the remainder in India bonds, that it may 
not lie quite dead, while I am accountable to * * * * 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 335 

for the interest. The elderly lady in a male habit, 
who informed me that Yorkshire is a register 
county, is a certain j udge, one Sir William Blackstone, 
whose name yon may possibly have heard. After 
stating the danger of purchasers and creditors, 
with regard to the title of estates on which they 
lay out or lend their money, he thus continues : 
" In Scotland every act and event regarding the 
transmission of property is regularly entered on 
record ; and some of our own provincial divisions, 
particularly the extended county of York and the 
populous county of Middlesex, have prevailed 
with the legislature to erect such registers in their 
respective districts." (Blackstone's Commentaries, 
vol. ii. p. 343. edition of 1774, in quarto.) If I am 
mistaken, it is in pretty good company ; but I 
suspect that we are all right, and that the register 
is confined to one or two ridings. As we have, 
alas! two or three months before us, I should hope 
that your prudent sagacity will discover some sound 
land, in case you should not have time to arrange 
another mortgage. I now write in a hurry, as I am 
just setting out for Rolle, where I shall be settled 
with cook and servants in a pleasant apartment, till 
the middle of November. The Severys have a 
house there, where they pass the autumn. I am 
not sorry to vary the scene for a few weeks, and 
I wish to be absent while some alterations are 
making in my house at Lausanne. I wish the 
change of air may be of service to Severy the 
father, but we do not at all like his present state of 
health. How completely, alas, how completely ! 
could I now lodge you : but your firm resolve of 



330 LETTERS FROM MB. GIBBON 

making me a visit seems to have vanished like a 
dream. Next summer you \\ ill not find five hundred 

pounds for a rational friendly expedition ; and 
should parliament be dissolved, you will perhaps 

find five thousand for . I cannot think of it 

with patience. Pray take serious strenuous measures 
for sending me a pipe of excellent Madeira in cask, 
with some dozens of Malmsey Madeira. It should 
be consigned to Messrs. Romberg, Voituriers at 
Ostend, and I must have timely notice of its 
march. We have so much to say about France, 
that I suppose we shall never say any thing. That 
country is now in a state of dissolution. Adieu. 

Lausanne, December loth, 17S9. 

You have often reason to accuse my strange 
silence and neglect in the most important of my 
own affairs ; for I will presume to assert, that in a 
business of yours of equal consequence, you should 
not find me cold or careless. But on the present 
occasion my silence is, perhaps, the highest com- 
pliment I ever paid you. You remember the 
answer of Philip of Macedon : "Philip may sleep, 
while he knows that Parmenio is awake." I ex- 
pected, and, to say the truth, I wished that my 
Parmenio would have decided and acted, without 
expecting my dilatory answer ; and in his decision 
I should have acquiesced with implicit, confidence. 
But since you will have my opinion, let us con- 
sider the present state of my affairs. In the course 
of my life I have often known, and sometimes 
Hit, the difficulty of getting money; but I now 
Jiiul myself involved in a more singular distress, 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 33J 

the difficulty of placing it, and if it continues 
much longer, I shall almost wish for my land 
again. 

I perfectly agree with you, that it is bad ma- 
nagement to purchase in the funds when they do 
not yield four pounds per cent. * * * * 
###### #=* * 

Some of this money I can place safely, by means 
of my banker here ; and I shall possess, what I 
have always desired, a command of cash, which I 
cannot abuse to my prejudice, since I have it in 
my power to supply with my pen any extraordi- 
nary or fanciful indulgence of expense. And so 
much, indeed, for pecuniary matters. What would 
you have me say of the affairs of France ? We are 
too near, and too remote, to form an accurate 
judgment of that wonderful scene. The abuses of 
the court and government called aloud for reform- 
ation ; and it has happened, as it will always 
happen, that an innocent well-disposed Prince has 
paid the forfeit of the sins of his predecessors ; 
of the ambition of Lewis the Fourteenth, of the 
profusion of Lewis the Fifteenth. The French 
nation had a glorious opportunity, but they have 
abused and may lose their advantages. If they 
had been content with a liberal translation of our 
system, if they had respected the prerogatives of 
the crown, and the privileges of the nobles, they 
might have raised a solid fabric on the only true 
foundation, the natural aristocracy of a great coun- 
try. How different is the prospect ! Their King 
brought a captive to Paris, after his palace had 
been stained with the blood of his guards ; the 



338 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON 

nobles in exile; the clergy plundered in a way 
which strikes at the root of all property; the ca- 
pital an independent republic ; the union of the 
provinces dissolved ; the flames of discord kindled 
by the worst of men (in that light I consider Mi- 
rabeau) ; and the honestest of the Assembly, a set 
of wild visionaries (like our Dr. Price), who gravely 
debate, and dream about the establishment of a 
pure and perfect democracy of five-and-twentv 
millions, the virtues of the golden age, and the 
primitive rights and equality of mankind, which 
would lead, in fair reasoning, to an equal partition 
of lands and money. How many years must elapse 
before France can recover any vigour, or resume 
her station among the Powers of Europe ! As yet, 
there is no symptom of a great man, a Richelieu or 
a Cromw r ell, arising, either to restore the monarchy, 
or to lead the commonwealth. The weight of 
Paris, more deeply engaged in the funds than all 
the rest of the kingdom, will long delay a bank- 
ruptcy ; and if it should happen, it will be, both 
in the cause and the effect, a measure of weak- 
ness, rather than of strength. You send me to 
Chamberry, to see a Prince and an Archbishop. 
Alas ! we have exiles enough here, with the Mar- 
shal de Castries and the Duke de Guignes at their 
head; and this inundation of strangers, which used 
to be confined to the summer, will now stagnate 
all the winter. The only ones whom I have seen 
with pleasure are Mr. Mounier, the late President 
of the National Assembly, and the Count de Lally; 
they have both dined with me. Mounier, who is 
a serious dry politician, is returned to Dauphine. 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 339 

Lally is an amiable man of the world and a poet : 
he passes the winter here. You know how much 
I prefer a quiet select society to a crowd of names 
and titles, and that I always seek conversation with 
a view to amusement rather than information. 
What happy countries are England and Switzer- 
land, if they know and preserve their happiness ! 

I have a thousand things to say to my Lady, 
Maria, and Louisa, but I can add only a short 
postscript about the Madeira. Good Madeira is 
now become essential to my health and reputation. 
May your hogshead prove as good as the last ; may 
it not be intercepted by the rebels or the Austrian s. 
What a scene again in that country ! Happy 
England ! Happy Switzerland ! I again repeat, 
adieu. 

Lausanne, January 27th, 1790. 

Your two last epistles, of the 7th and 11th in- 
stant were somewhat delayed on the road ; they 
arrived within two days of each other, the last this 
morning (the 27th); so that I answer by the first, 
or at least by the second post. Upon the whole, 
your French method, though sometimes more ra- 
pid, appears to me less sure and steady than the old 
German highway, &c. * * * * * 

But enough of this. A new and brighter prospect 
seems to be breaking upon us, and few events of 
that kind have ever given me more pleasure than 
your successful negociation and ****'s satisfactory 
answer. The agreement is, indeed, equally conve- 
nient for both parties : no time or expense will be 
wasted in scrutinising the title of the estate ; the 
z 2 



S40 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON. 

interest will be secured by the clause of rive per 
cent., and 1 lament with you, that no larger sum 
than eight thousand pounds can be placed on Be- 
riton, without asking (what might be somewhat 
impudent), a collateral security, &c. &c. * 
But I wish you to choose and execute one or 
the other of these arrangements with sage dis- 
cretion and absolute power. I shorten my let- 
ter, that I may dispatch it by this post. I seethe 
time, and I shall rejoice to see it at the end of 
twenty years, when my cares will be at an end, and 
our friendly pages will be no longer sullied with 
the repetition of dirty land and vile money ; when 
we may expatiate on the politics of the world and 
our personal sentiments. Without expecting your 
answer of business, I mean to write soon in a purer 
style, and I wish to lay open to my friend the state 
of my mind, which (exclusive of all worldly con- 
cerns) is not perfectly at ease. In the mean while, 
I must add two or three short articles. I am 
astonished at Elmsley's silence, and the immobility 
of your picture. Mine should have departed long 
since, could I have found a sure opportunity, &c. 
&c. Adieu, yours. 

Lausanne, May loth, 1790. 

Since the first origin (ab ovo) of our connection 
and correspondence, so long an interval of silence has 
not intervened, as far as I remember, between us. 

From my silence you conclude that the moral 
complaint, which I had insinuated in my last, is 
either insignificant or fanciful. The conclusion is 
rash. But the complaint in question is of the nature 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 341 

of a slow lingering disease, which is not attended 
with any immediate danger. As I have not leisure 
to expatiate, take the idea in three words : " Since 
the loss of poor Deyverdun, I am alone ; and 
even in Paradise, solitude is painful to a social 
mind. When I was a dozen years younger, I 
scarcely felt the weight of a single existence amidst 
the crowds of London, of parliament, of clubs ; 
but it will press more heavily upon me in this 
tranquil land, in the decline of life, and with the 
increase of infirmities. Some expedient, even the 
most desperate, must be embraced, to secure the 
domestic society of a male or female companion. 
But I am not in a hurry ; there is time for reflection 
and advice." During this winter such finer feelings 
have been suspended by the grosser evil of bodily 
pain. On the ninth of February I was seized by 
such a fit of the gout as I had never known, though 
I must be thankful that its dire effects have been 
confined to the feet and knees, without ascending 
to the more noble parts. With some vicissitudes of 
better and worse, I have groaned between two and 
three months ; the debility has survived the pain, 
and though now easy, I am carried about in my 
chair, without any power, and with a very distant 
chance of supporting myself, from the extreme 
weakness and contraction of the joints of my knees. 
Yet I am happy in a skilful physician, and kind 
assiduous friends : every evening, during more than 
three months, has been enlivened (excepting when 
I have been forced to refuse them) by some cheerful 
visits, and very often by a chosen party of both 
sexes. How different is such society from the so- 
z S 



• ! I J LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON 

litary evenings which I have passed in the tumult 
of London ! It is not worth while fighting about 
a shadow, but should I ever return to England, 
Bath, not the metropolis, would be my last retreat. 
Your portrait is at last arrived in perfect con- 
dition, and now occupies a conspicuous place over 
the chimney-glass in my library. It is the object of 
general admiration ; good j udges (the few) applaud 
the work ; the name of Reynolds opens the eyes 
and mouths of the many ; and were I not afraid of 
making you vain, I would inform you that the ori- 
ginal is not allowed to be more than flve-and-thirty. 
In spite of private reluctance and public discontent, 
I have honourably dismissed myselfi I shall arrive 
at Sir Joshua's before the end of the month : he 
will give me a look, and perhaps a touch ; and you 
will be indebted to the president one guinea for the 
carriage. Do not be nervous, I am not rolled up ; 
had I been so, you might have gazed on my charms 
four months ago. I want some account of your- 
self, of my Lady (shall we never directly corre- 
spond ?), of Louisa, and of Maria. How has the 
latter since her launch supported a quiet winter in 
Sussex ? I so much rejoice in your divorce from 

that b Kitty Coventry, that I care not what 

marriage you contract. A great city would suit 
your dignity, and the duties which would kill me 
in the first session, would supply your activity with 
a constant fund of amusement. But tread softly 
and surely ; the ice is deceitful, the water is deep, 
and you may be soused over head and ears before 
you are aware. Why did not you or Elmsley 

' His portrait. 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 343 

send me the African pamphlet ' by the post ? it 
would not have cost much. You have such a knack 
of turning a nation, that I am afraid you will 
triumph (perhaps by the force of argument) over 
justice and humanity. But do you not expect to 
work at Beelzebub's sugar plantations in the infernal 
regions, under the tender government of a negro- 
driver ? I should suppose both my Lady and Miss 
Firth very angry with you. 

As to the bill for prints, which has been too long 
neglected, why will you not exercise the power, 
which I have never revoked, over all my cash at 
the Goslings? The Severy family has passed a 
very favourable winter ; the young man is impa- 
tient to hear from a family which he places above 
all others : yet he will generously write next week, 
and send you a drawing of the alterations in the 
house. Do not raise your ideas ; you know /am 
satisfied with convenience in architecture, and some 
elegance in furniture. I admire the coolness with 
which you ask me to epistolise Reynell and 
Elmsley, as if a letter were so easy and pleasant a 
task ; it appears less so to me every day. 

1790. 

Your indignation will melt into pity, when you 
hear that for several weeks past I have been again 
confined to my chamber and my chair. Yet I 
must hasten, generously hasten, to exculpate the 
gout, my old enemy, from the curses which you 
already pour on his head. He is not the cause of 

1 Observations on the Project for abolishing the Slave Trade, by 
Lord Sheffield, 

z 4 



; I 1 LETTERS PROM MR. GIBBON 

this disorder, although the consequences have been 
somewhat similar. I am satisfied that this effort of 

nature has saved me from a very dangerous, perhaps 
a fatal, crisis ; and I listen to the flattering hope 
that it may tend to keep the gout at a more re- 
spectful distance, &c. &c. Sec. 

The whole sheet has been filled with dry selfish 
business; but I must and will reserve some lines of 
the cover for a little friendly conversation. I passed 
four days at the castle of Copet with Necker ; and 
could have wished to have shown him as a warning 
to any aspiring youth possessed with the demon of 
ambition. With all the means of private happhu ss 
in his power, he is the most miserable of human 
beings : the past, the present, and the future, are 
equally odious to him. When I suggested some 
domestic amusements of books, building, &c, he 
answered with a deep tone of despair, " Dans 
l'etat ou je suis, je ne puis sentir que le coup de 
vent qui m'a abbattu." How different from the 
conscious cheerfulness with which our poor friend 
Lord North supported his fall. Madame Necker 
maintains more external composure, mat's le Diable 
nHyperd rien. It is true that Necker wished to be 
carried into the closet, like old Pitt, on the 
shoulders of the people ; and that he has been 
ruined by the democracy which he had raised. I 
believe him to be an able financier, and know him 
to be an honest man ; too honest, perhaps, for a 
minister. His rival Calonne passed through Lau- 
sanne, in his way from Turin ; and was soon fol- 
lowed by the Prince of Conde, with his son and 
grandson ; but I was too much indisposed to see 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 34-5 

them. They have, or have had, some wild projects 
of a counter-revolution : horses have been bought, 
men levied : and the Canton of Berne has too 
much countenanced such foolish attempts, which 
must end in the ruin of the party. Burke's book is 
a most admirable medicine against the French dis- 
ease, which has made too much progress even in 
this happy country. I admire his eloquence, I 
approve his politics, I adore his chivalry, and I 
can forgive even his superstition. The primitive 
church, which I have treated with some free- 
dom, w T as itself at that time an innovation, and I 
was attached to the old Pagan establishment. The 
French spread so many lies about the sentiments of 
the English nation, that I wish the most consider- 
able men of all parties and descriptions would join 
in some public act, declaring themselves satisfied 
with, and resolved to support our present constitu- 
tion. Such a declaration would have a wonderful 
effect in Europe ; and, were I thought worthy, I 
myself would be proud to subscribe it. I have a 
great mind to send you something of a sketch, 
such as all thinking men might adopt. 

I have intelligence of the approach of my Ma- 
deira. I accept with equal pleasure the second 
pipe, now in the Torrid Zone. Send me some 
pleasant details of your domestic state, of Maria, 
&c. If my Lady thinks that my silence is a mark 
of indifference, my lady is a goose. I must have 
you all at Lausanne next summer. 



346 LETTERS PROM MR. GIBBON 

Lausanne, August 7, 1790. 

I answer a1 once your two letters; and I should 
probably have taken earlier notice of the first, had 
I not been in daily expectation of the second. I 
must begin on the subject of what really interests 
me the most, your glorious election for Bristol. 
Most sincerely do I congratulate your exchange of 
a cursed expensive jilt, who deserted you for a rich 
Jew, for an honourable connection with a chaste and 
virtuous matron, who will probably be as constant 
as she is disinterested. 1 In the whole range of 
election from Caithness to St. Ives, I much doubt 
whether there be a single choice so truly honourable 
to the member and the constituents. The second 
commercial city invites, from a distant province, an 
independent gentleman, known only by his active 
spirit, and his writings on the subject of trade ; and 
names him, without intrigue or expense, for her 
representative : even the voice of party is silenced, 
while factions strive which shall applaud the most. 

You are now sure, for seven years to come, of 
never wanting food ; I mean business : what a 
crowd of suitors or complainants will besiege your 
door ! what a load of letters and memorials will be 
heaped on your table ! I much question whether 
even you will not sometimes exclaim, Ohejam satis 
est ! but that is your affair. Of the excursion to 
Coventry I cannot decide, but I hear it is pretty 



1 Lord Sheffield continued to represent the city of Bristol until he 
was removed to the British House of Peers, in 1802, Ho can never 
sufficiently acknowledge the liberality ami kindness which he experi- 
enced, during the whole period, from the citizens o\' Bristol. lie was 
not suffered to incur the least expense, not even lor the printing of an 

advertisement. — S. 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 347 

generally blamed : but however, I love gratitude 
to an old friend ; and shall not be very angry if you 
damned them with a farewell to all eternity. But 
I cannot repress my indignation at the use of those 
foolish, obsolete, odious words, Whig and Tory. In 
the American war they might have some meaning ; 
and then your Lordship was a Tory, although you 
supposed yourself a Whig : since the coalition, all 
general principles have been confounded ; and if 
there ever was an opposition to men, not measures, 
it is the present. Luckily both the leaders are great 
men ; and, whatever happens, the country must 
fall upon its legs. What a strange mist of peace 
and war seems to hang over the ocean ! We can 
perceive nothing but secrecy and vigour ; both 
those are excellent qualities to perceive in a mi- 
nister. From yourself and politics I now return to 
my private concerns, which I shall methodically 
consider under the three great articles of mind, 
body, and estate. 

1. I am not absolutely displeased at your firing 
so hastily at the hint, a tremendous hint, in my last 
letter. But the danger is not so serious or immi- 
nent as you seem to suspect ; and I give you my 
word, that before I take the slightest step which 
can bind me either in law, conscience, or honour, I 
will faithfully communicate, and we will freely dis- 
cuss, the whole state of the business. But at pre- 
sent there is not any thing to communicate or dis- 
cuss ; I do assure you that I have not any particular 
object in view : I am not in love with any of the 
hyaenas of Lausanne, though there are some who 
keep their claws tolerably well pared. Sometimes 



348 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON 

in a solitary mood, I fancied myself married to one 
or other of those whose society and conversation 
are the most pleasing to me ; but when I have 
painted in my fancy all the probable consequences 
of such an union, I have started from my dream, 
rejoiced in my escape, and ejaculated a thanks- 
giving that I was still in possession of my natural 
freedom. Yet I feel, and shall continue to feel, 
that domestic solitude, however it maybe alleviated 
by the world, by study, and even by friendship, is 
a comfortless state, which will grow more painful as 
I descend in the vale of years. At present my 
situation is very tolerable ; and if at dinner-time, or 
at my return home in the evening, I sometimes sigh 
for a companion, there are many hours, and many 
occasions, in which I enjoy the superior blessing of 
being sole master of my own house. But your 
plan, though less dangerous, is still more absurd 
than mine : such a couple as you describe could not 
be found ; and, if found, would not answer my pur- 
pose ; their rank and position would be awkward 
and ambiguous to myself and my acquaintance ; 
and the agreement of three persons of three charac- 
ters would be still more impracticable. My plan of 
Charlotte Porten is undoubtedly the more desirable; 
and she might either remain a spinster (the case is 
not without example), or marry some Swiss of my 
choice, who would increase and enliven our society; 
and both would have the strongest motives for kind 
and dutiful behaviour. But the mother has been 
indirectly sounded, and will not hear of such a 
proposal for some years. On my side, I would not 
take her, but as a piece of soft wax which I could 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 349 

model to the language and manners of the country ; 
I must therefore be patient. 

Young Severy's letter, which maybe now in your 
hands, and which, for these three or four last posts, 
has furnished my indolence with a new pretence 
for delay, has already informed you of the means 
and circumstances of my resurrection, Tedious 
indeed was my confinement, since I was not able 
to move from my house or chair, from the ninth of 
February to the first of July, very nearly five 
months. The first weeks were accompanied with 
more pain than I have ever known in the gout, 
with anxious days and sleepless nights ; and when 
that pain subsided, it left a weakness in my knees, 
which seemed to have no end. My confinement 
was however softened by books, by the possession 
of every comfort and convenience, by a succession 
each evening of agreeable company, and by a flow 
of equal spirits and general good health. During 
the last weeks I descended to the ground floor, poor 
Deyverdun's apartment, and constructed a chair 
like Merlin's, in which I could wheel myself in the 
house and on the terrace. My patience has been 
universally admired ; yet how many thousands 
have passed those five months less easily than my- 
self. I remember making a remark perfectly 
simple, and perfectly true : " At present (I said to 
Madame de Severy), I am not positively miserable, 
and I may reasonably hope a daily or weekly im- 
provement, till sooner or later in the summer I shall 
recover new limbs, and new pleasures, which I do 
not now possess : have any of you such a prospect? " 
The prediction has been accomplished, and I have 



350 LETTERS FROM MB. GIBBON' 

arrived to my present condition of strength, or 
rather of feebleness : I now can walk with tolerable 
ease in my garden and smooth places ; but on the 
rough pavement of the town I use, and perhaps 
shall use, a sedan chair. The Pyrmont waters have 
performed wonders ; and my physician (not Tissot, 
but a very sensible man,) allows me to hope that 
the term of the interval will be in proportion to that 
of the fit. 

Have you read in the English papers, that the 
government of Berne is overturned, and that we 
are divided into three democratical leagues ? true as 
what I have read in the French papers, that the Eng- 
lish have cut off Pitt's head, and abolished the House 
of Lords. The people of this country are happy ; 
and in spite of some miscreants, and more foreign 
emissaries, they are sensible of their happiness. 

Finally, inform my Lady that I am indignant 
at a false and heretical assertion in her last letter to 
Severy, " that friends at a distance cannot love 
each other, if they do not write." I love her 
better than any* woman in the world ; indeed I do; 
and yet I do not write. And she herself — but I 
am calm. We have now nearly one hundred 
French exiles, some of them worth being acquainted 
with ; particularly a Count de Schomberg, who is 
become almost my friend; he is a man of the world, 
of letters, and of sufficient age, since, in 1753, he 
succeeded to Marshal Saxe's regiment of dragoons. 
As to the rest, I entertain them, and they flatter 
me : but I wish we were reduced to our Lausanne 
society. Poor France! the stale is dissolved, the 
nation is mad! Adieu. 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 351 

Lausanne, April 9, 1791. 

First, of my health : it is now tolerably restored, 
my legs are still weak, but the animal in general is 
in a sound and lively condition : and we have great 
hopes from the fine weather and the Pyrmont 
waters. I most sincerely wished for the presence 
of Maria, to embellish a ball which I gave the 29th 
of last month to all the best company, natives and 
foreigners, of Lausanne, with the aid of the Severys, 
especially of the mother and son, who directed the 
economy, and performed the honours of the fete. 
It opened about seven in the evening; the assembly 
of men and women was pleased and pleasing, the 
music good, the illumination splendid, the refresh- 
ments profuse : at twelve, one hundred and thirty 
persons sat down to a very good supper : at two, I 
stole away to bed, in a snug corner ; and I was in- 
formed at breakfast, that the remains of the veteran 
and young troops, with Severy and his sister at 
their head, had concluded the last dance about a 
quarter before seven. This magnificent enter- 
tainment has gained me great credit : and the 
expense was more reasonable than you can easily 
imagine. This was an extraordinary event ; but I 
give frequent dinners ; and in the summer I have 
an assembly every Sunday evening. What a wicked 
wretch ! says my Lady. 

I cannot pity you for the accumulation of 
business, as you ought not to pity me, if I com- 
plained of the tranquillity of Lausanne ; we suffer 
or enjoy the effects of our own choice. Perhaps 
you will mutter something of our not being born 
for ourselves, of public spirit (I have formerly 



■>r! l.i.l l ERS I ROM MR. GIBBON 

read of such a thing), of private friendship, for 

which I give you full and ample credit, &c. But 
your parliamentary operations, at least, will probably 

expire in the month of June; and I shall refuse to 
sign the Newhaven conveyance, unless I am satis- 
fied that you will execute the Lausanne visit this 
summer. On the 15th of June, suppose Lord, 
Lady, Maria, and maid (poor Louisa!), in a post 
coach, with Etienne on horseback, set out from 
Downing Street, or Sheffield Place, cross the Chan- 
nel from Brighton to Dieppe, visit the National 
Assembly, buy caps at Paris, examine the ruins of 
Versailles, and arrive at Lausanne, without danger 
or fatigue, the second week in July ; you will be 
lodged pleasantly and comfortably, and will not 
perhaps despise my situation. A couple of months 
will roll, alas ! too hastily away : you will all be 
amused by new scenes, new people : and whenever 
Maria and you, with Severy, mount on horseback 
to visit the country, the glaciers, &c, my Lady and 
myself shall form a very quiet tete-a-tete at home. 
In September, if you are tired, you may return by 
a direct or indirect way; but I only desire that you 
will not make the plan impracticable, by grasping 
at too much. In return, I promise you a visit of 
three or four months in the autumn of ninety-two : 
you and my booksellers are now my principal at- 
tractions in England. You had some right to 
growl at hearing of my supplement in the papers : 
but Cadell's indiscretion was founded on a hint 
which I had thrown out in a letter, and which in 
all probability will never be executed. Yet I am 
not totally idle. Adieu. 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 3.53 



Lausanne, May 18. 1791. 



I write a short letter, on small paper, to inform 
you, that the various deeds, which arrived safe and 
in good condition, have this morning been sealed, 
signed, and delivered, in the presence of respectable 
and well-known English witnesses. To have read 
the aforesaid acts, would have been difficult ; to 
have understood them, impracticable. I therefore 
signed them with my eyes shut, and in that implicit 
confidence which we freemen and Britons are 
humbly content to yield to our lawyers and 
ministers. I hope, however, most seriously hope, 
that every thing has been carefully examined, and 
that I am not totally ruined. It is not without 
much impatience that I expect an account of the 
payment and investment of the purchase-money. 
It was my intention to have added a new edition of 
my will : but I have an unexpected call to go to 
Geneva to-morrow with the Severys, and must 
defer that business a few days till after my return. 
On my return I may possibly find a letter from you, 
and will write more fully in answer: my posthumous 
work ', contained in a single sheet, will not ruin 
you in postage. In the mean while let me desire 
you either never to talk of Lausanne or to execute 
the journey this summer : after the dispatch of 
public and private business, there can be no real 
obstacle but in yourself. Pray do not go to war 
with Russia ; it is very foolish. I am quite angry 
with Pitt. Adieu. 

i Mr. Gibbon's Will. 
A A 



354 LETTERS FROM MB 



At length I see a ray of sunshine breaking from 
a dark cloud. Your epistle of the 13th arrived 
this morning, the 25th instant, the day after my 
return from Geneva ; it has been communicated 
to Severy. We now believe that you intend a 
visit to Lausanne this summer, and we hope that 
you will execute that intention. If you are a man 
of honour, you shall find me one ; and, on the day 
of your arrival at Lausanne, I will ratify my en- 
gagement of visiting the British isle before the end 
of the year 1792, excepting only the fair and foul 
exception of the gout. You rejoice me, by pro- 
posing the addition of dear Louisa ; it was not 
without a bitter pang that I threw her overboard, 
to lighten the vessel and secure the voyage : I was 
fearful of the governess, a second carriage, and a 
long train of difficulty and expense, which might 
have ended in blowing up the whole scheme. But 
if you can bodkin the sweet creature into the 
coach, she will find an easy welcome at Lausanne. 
The first arrangements which I must make before 
your arrival, may be altered by your own taste, on 
a survey of the premises, and you will all be com- 
modiously and pleasantly lodged. You have heard 
a great deal of the beauty of my house, garden, 
and situation ; but such are their intrinsic value 
that, unless I am much deceived, they will bear 
the test even of exaggerated praise. From my 
knowledge of your lordship, I have always enter- 
tained some doubt how you would get through the 
society of a Lausanne winter ; but I am satisfied 
that, exclusive of friendship, your summer visits to 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 355 

the banks of the Leman Lake will long be remem- 
bered as one of the most agreeable periods of your 
life ; and that you will scarcely regret the amuse- 
ment of a Sussex Committee of Navigation in the 
dog days. You ask for details : what details ? a 
map of France and a post-book are easy and in- 
fallible guides. If the ladies are not afraid of the 
ocean, you are not ignorant of the passage from 
Brighton to Dieppe : Paris will then be in your 
direct road ; and even allowing you to look at 
the Pandaemonium, the ruins of Versailles, &c, a 
fortnight diligently employed will clear you from 
Sheffield Place to Gibbon Castle. What can I say 
more ? 

As little have I to say on the subject of my 
worldly matters, which seem now, Jupiter be 
praised, to be drawing towards a final conclusion ; 
since when people part with their money, they are 
indeed serious. I do not perfectly understand the 
ratio of the precise sum which you have poured 
into Gosling's reservoir, but suppose it will be ex- 
plained in a general account. 

You have been very dutiful in sending me, what 
I have always desired, a cut Woodfall on a remark- 
able debate ; a debate, indeed, most remarkable ! 
Poor Burke is the most eloquent and rational 
madman that I ever knew. I love Fox's feelings, 
but I detest the political principles of the man, and 
of the party. Formerly, you detested them more 
strongly during the American war, than myself. 
I am half afraid that you are corrupted by your 
unfortunate connections. Should you admire the 
National Assembly, we shall have many an alter- 

A A 2 



35G LETTERS FROM .Ml:. GIBBON 

cation, for I am as high an aristocrat as Burke 
himself; and he has truly observed, that it is im- 
possible to debate with temper on the subject of 
that cursed revolution. In my last excursion to 
Geneva I frequently saw the Neckers, who by 
this time are returned to their summer residence at 
Copet. He is much restored in health and spirits, 
especially since the publication of his last book, 
which has probably reached England. Both parties, 
who agree in abusing him, agree likewise that he 
is a man of virtue and genius ; but I much fear 
that the purest intentions have been productive of 
the most baneful consequences. Our military men, 
I mean the French, are leaving ns every day for 
the camp of the Princes at Worms, and support 
what is called ! representation. Their 

hopes are sanguine ; I will not answer for their 
being well grounded : it is certain, however, that 
the emperor had an interview the 19th instant with 
the count of Artois at Mantua ; and the aristocrats 
talk in mysterious language of Spain, Sardinia, the 
Empire, four or five armies, &c. They will doubtless 
strike a blow this summer ; may it not recoil on 
their own heads ! Adieu. Embrace our female 
travellers. A short delay ! 

Lausanne, June 12, 1701. 

I now begin to see you all in real motion, 
swimming from Brighton to Dieppe, according to 
my scheme, and afterwards treading the direct road, 
which you cannot well avoid, to the turbulent 
capital of the late kingdom of France. I know not 

1 The words in the original letter are torn oil' In the seal. 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 357 

what more to say, or what further instructions to 
send ; they would indeed be useless, as you are 
travelling through a country which has been some- 
times visited by Englishmen : only this let me say, 
that in the midst of anarchy the roads were never 
more secure than at present, As you will wish to 
assist at the National Assembly, you will act pru- 
dently in obtaining from the French in London a 
good recommendation to some leading member ; 
Cazales, for instance, or the Abbe Maury. I soon 
expect from Elmsley a cargo of books ; but you 
may bring me any new pamphlet of exquisite 
flavour, particularly the last works of John Lord 
Sheffield 1 , which the dog has always neglected to 
send. You will have time to write once more, and 
you must endeavour, as nearly as possible, to mark 
the day of your arrival. You may come either by 
Lyons and Geneva, by Dijon and Les Rousses, or 
by Dole and Pontarliere. The post will fail you 
on the edge of Switzerland, and must be supplied 
by hired horses. I wish you to make your last 
day's journey easy, so as to dine upon the road, and 
arrive by tea-time. The pulse of the counter- 
revolution beats high, but I cannot send you any 
certain facts. Adieu. I want to liear my lady 
abusing me for never writing. All the Severys are 
very impatient. 

Notwithstanding the high premium, I do not 
absolutely wish you drowned. Besides all other 
cares, I must marry and propagate, which would 
give me a great deal of trouble. 

1 Observations on the Corn Laws. 
A A 3 



858 PROM SIR. GIBBON TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 

Lausanne, July 1, 17m. 

Iii obedience to your orders I directa flying shot 
to Paris, though I have not any thing particular to 
add, excepting that our impatience is increased in 
the inverse ratio of lime' and space. Yet I almost 
doubt whether you have passed the sea. The 
news of the king of France's escape must have 
readied you before the 28th, the day of your 
departure, and the prospect of strange unknown 
disorder may well have suspended your firmest 
resolves. The royal animal is again caught, and 
all may probably be quiet. I was just going to 
exhort you to pass through Brussels and the confines 
of Germany ; a fair Irishism, since if you read this, 
you are already at Paris. The only reasonable 
advice which now remains, is to obtain, by means 
of Lord Gower 1 , a sufficiency, or even superfluity, 
of forcible passports, such as leave no room for 
cavil on ajealous frontier. The frequent intercourse 
with Paris has proved that the best and shortest 
road, instead of Besancon, is by Dijon, Dole, Les 
llousses, and Nyon. Adieu. I warmly embrace 
the ladies. It would be idle now to talk of business. 

1 Then British ambassador at Paris. 



359 



It has appeared from the foregoing Letters that 
a visit from myself and my family, to Mr. Gibbon 
at Lausanne, had been for some time in agitation. 
This long-promised excursion took place in the 
month of June, 1791* and occasioned a consider- 
able cessation of our correspondence. I landed 
at Dieppe immediately after the unfortunate Lewis 
XVI. was brought captive to Paris. During my 
stay in that capital, I had an opportunity of seeing 
the extraordinary ferment of men's minds, both in 
the National Assembly and in private societies, and 
also in my passage through France to Lausanne, 
where I recalled to my memory the interesting 
scenes I had witnessed by frequent conversations 
with my deceased friend. I might have wished to 
record his opinions on the subject of the French 
Revolution, if he had not expressed them so well 
in the annexed Letters. He seemed to suppose, 
as some of his letters hint, that I had a tendency 
to the new French opinions. Never was suspicion 
more unfounded ; nor could it have been admitted 
into Mr. Gibbon's mind, but that his extreme 
friendship for me, and his utter abhorrence of 
these notions, made him anxious and jealous, even 
to an excess, that I should not entertain them. 
He was, however, soon undeceived ; he found that 
I was fully as averse to them as himself. I had 
from the first expressed an opinion, that such a 
a a 4 



360 

change as was aimed at in Trance, would derange 
all the regulai governments in Europe, hazard the 
internal quiet and dearest interests of this country, 
and probably end in bringing on mankind a much 
greater portion of misery than the most sanguine 
reformer had ever promised to himself or others to 
produce of benefit, by the visionary schemes of 
liberty and equality, with which the ignorant and 
vulgar were misled and abused. 

Mr. Gibbon at first, like many others, seemed 
pleased with the prospect of the reform of inve- 
terate abuses ; but he very soon discovered the 
mischief which was intended, the imbecility with 
which concessions were made, and the ruin which 
must arise, from the want of resolution or conduct, 
in the administration of France. He lived to re- 
probate in the strongest terms possible, the folly of 
the first reformers, and the something worse than 
extravagance and ferocity of their successors. He 
saw the wild and mischievous tendency of those 
pretended reformers, which, while they professed 
nothing but amendment, really meant destruction 
to all social order ; and so strongly was his opinion 
fixed, as to the danger of hasty innovation, that he 
became a warm and zealous advocate for every 
sort of old establishment, which he marked in va- 
rious ways, sometimes rather ludicrously ; and I 
recollect, in a circle where French affairs were the 
topic, and some Portuguese present, he, seemingly 
with seriousness, argued in favour of the Inqui- 
sition at Lisbon, and said he would not, at the 
present moment, give up even that old establish- 
ment. 



361 

It may, perhaps, not be quite uninteresting to 
the readers of these Memoirs, to know, that I 
found Mr. Gibbon at Lausanne in possession of an 
excellent house ; the view from which, and from 
the terrace, was so uncommonly beautiful, that 
even his own pen would with difficulty describe 
the scene which it commanded. This prospect 
comprehended every thing vast and magnificent 
which could be furnished by the finest mountains 
among the Alps, the most extensive view of the 
Lake of Geneva, with a beautifully varied and 
cultivated country, adorned by numerous villas, 
and picturesque buildings, intermixed with beau- 
tiful masses of stately trees. Here my friend re- 
ceived us with an hospitality and kindness which I 
can never forget. The best apartments of the 
house were appropriated to our use ; the choicest 
society of the place was sought for to enliven our 
visit, and render every day of it cheerful and 
agreeable. It was impossible for any man to be 
more esteemed and admired than Mr. Gibbon was 
at Lausanne. The preference he had given to 
that place, in adopting it for a residence, rather 
than his own country, was felt and acknowledged 
by all the inhabitants j and he may have been said 
almost to have given the law to a set of as willing 
subjects as any man ever presided over. In return 
for the deference shown to him, he mixed, without 
affectation, in all the society, I mean all the best 
society, that Lausanne afforded ; he could indeed 
command it, and was, perhaps, for that reason the 
more partial to it ; for he often declared that he 
liked society more as a relaxation from study, than 



3G"2 

as expecting to derive from it amusement or in- 
struction ; that to books he looked for improve* 
ment, not to living persons. But this I considered 
partly as an answer to my expressions of wonder, 
that a man who might choose the most various 
and most generally improved society in the world, 
namely in England, should prefer the very limited 
circle of Lausanne, which he never deserted, but 
for an occasional visit to M. and Madame Xecker. 
It must not, however, be understood, that in 
choosing Lausanne for his home, he was insensible 
to the value of a residence in England : he was 
not in possession of an income which corresponded 
with his notions of ease and comfort in his own 
country. In Switzerland, his fortune was ample. 
To this consideration of fortune may be added an- 
other, which also had its weight ; from early youth 
Mr. Gibbon had contracted a partiality for foreign 
taste and foreign habits of life, which made him 
less a stranger abroad than he was, in some respects, 
in his native country. This arose, perhaps, from 
having been out of England from his sixteenth to 
his twenty-first year ; yet, when I came to Lau- 
sanne I found him apparently without relish for 
French society. During the stay I made with him 
he renewed his intercourse with the principal 
French who were at Lausanne ; of whom there 
happened to be a considerable number distinguished 
for rank or talents ; many indeed respectable for 
both. 1 I was not absent from my friend's house, 

1 Marshal de Castries and several branches of his family. Due de 
Guignes and daughters, Due and Duchesse de Quiche, Madame de 
Grammont, Princesse d'Henin, Princesse de Bouillon, Duchesse de- 
Biron, Prince de Salm, Corate de Schoraberg, Corate de Lally To- 
lendal, M.Mounier, Madame d'Aguesseau and family, M.de Malsherbes, 
Sec. &C. 



368 

except during a short excursion that we made to- 
gether to M. Necker's at Copet, and a tour to 
Geneva, Chamouny, over the Col de Balme, to 
Martigny, St. Maurice, and round the Lake by 
Vevay to Lausanne. In the social and singularly 
pleasant months that I passed with Mr. Gibbon, 
he enjoyed his usual cheerfulness, with good health. 
After he left England, in 1788, he had had a severe 
attack, mentioned in one of the foregoing letters, 
of an erysipelas, which at last settled in one of his 
legs, and left something of a dropsical tendency ; 
for at this time I first perceived a considerable 
degree of swelling about the ancle. 

In the beginning of October I quitted this 
delightful residence ; and some time after nrv/ 
return to England, our correspondence recom- 
menced. 



865 



LETTERS 



EDWARD GIBBON, ESQ. 



LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS, 



Edward Gibbon, Esq. to the Hon. Miss Holroyd. 

Lausanne, 9th Nov. 1791. 

Gulliver is made to say, in presenting his in- 
terpreter, " My tongue is in the mouth of my 
friend. " Allow me to say, with proper expressions 
and excuses, " My pen is in the hand of my 
friend ; " and the aforesaid friend begs leave thus 
to continue. 1 

I remember to have read somewhere in Rous- 
seau, of a lover quitting very often his mistress, to 
have the pleasure of corresponding with her. 
Though not absolutely your lover, I am very much 
your admirer, and should be extremely tempted to 
follow the same example. The spirit and reason 
which prevail in your conversation, appear to great 
advantage in your letters. The three which I 
have received from Berne, Coblentz, and Brussels, 



1 The remainder of the letter was dictated by Mr. Gibbon, and 
written by M.Wilh. de Severy. — S. 



866 



l.l'.l I ERS FROM MR. GIBBON 



have given me much real pleasure; first, as a proof 
that you arc often thinking of me; secondly, as 
an evidence that you are capable of keeping a 
resolution ; and thirdly, from their own intrinsic 
merit and entertainment. The style, without any 
allowance for haste or hurry, is perfectly correct ; 
the manner is neither too light nor too grave ; the 
dimensions neither too long, nor too short : they 
are such, in a word, as I should like to receive 
from the daughter of my best friend. I attend 
your lively journal, through bad roads, and worse 
inns. Your description of men and manners con- 
veys very satisfactory information ; and I am par- 
ticularly delighted with your remark concerning 
the irregular behaviour of the Rhine. But the 
Rhine, alas ! after some temporary wanderings, 
will be content to flow in his old channel, while 
man — man is the greatest, fool of the whole cre- 
ation. 

I direct this letter to Sheffield Place, where I 
suppose you arrived in health and safety. I con- 
gratulate my Lady on her quiet establishment by 
her fire-side : and hope you will be able, after all 
your excursions, to support the climate and manners 
of Old England. Before this epistle reaches you, 
I hope to have received the two promised letters 
from Dover and Sheffield Place. If they should 
not meet with a proper return, you will pity and 
forgive me. I have not yet heard from Lord 
Sheffield, who seems to have devolved on his 
daughter the task which she has so gloriously 
executed. I shall probably not write to him till I 
have received his first letter of business from Enff- 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 36j 

land ; but with regard to my Lady, I have most 
excellent intentions. 

I never could understand how two persons of 
such superior merit, as Miss Holroyd and Miss 
Lausanne, could have so little relish for one another, 
as they appeared to have in the beginning ; and it 
was with great pleasure that I observed the degrees 
of their growing intimacy, and the mutual regret 
of their separation. Whatever you may imagine, 
your friends at Lausanne have been thinking as 
frequently of yourself and company, as you could 
possibly think of them ; and you will be very 
ungrateful, if you do not seriously resolve to make 
them a second visit, under such name and title as 
you may judge most agreeable. None of the 
Severy family, except perhaps my secretary, are 
inclined to forget you ; and I am continually asked 
for some accountof your health, motions, and amuse- 
ments. Since your departure, no great events have 
occurred. I have made a short excursion to Geneva 
and Copet, and found M. Necker in much better 
spirits than when you saw him. They pressed me 
to pass some weeks this winter in their house at 
Geneva ; and I may possibly comply, at least in 
part, with their invitation. The aspect of Lausanne 
is peaceful and placid ; and you have no hopes of 
a revolution driving me out of this country. We 
hear nothing of the proceedings of the commission 1 , 



i A commission, at the head of which was Monsieur Fischer, one 
of the principal members of the government of Berne, a very active and 
intelligent man, who would have distinguished himself in the admini- 
stration of any country. This commission, which was accompanied 
by two or three thousand of the best of the German militia of the 
Canton of Berne, was sent for the purpose of examining into some at- 



S68 i E I TERS FROM MR. GIBBON 

except by playing at cards every evening with 
Monsieur Fischer, who often speaks of Lord Shef- 
field with esteem and respect. There is no ap- 
pearance of llosset and La Motte being brought to 
a speedy trial, and they still remain in the castle of 
Chillon, which (according to the geography of the 
National Assembly) is washed by the sea. Our 
winter begins with great severity ; and we shall not 
probably have many balls, which, as you may ima- 
gine, I lament much. Angletine does not consider 
two French words as a letter. Montrond sighs 
and blushes whenever Louisa's name is men- 
tioned : Philippine wishes to converse with her on 
men and manners. The French ladies are settled 
in town for the winter, and they form, with Mrs. 
Trevor, a very agreeable addition to our society. 
It is now enlivened by a visit of the Chevalier de 
Boufflers, one of the most accomplished men in 
the ci-devant kingdom of France. 

As Mrs. Wood \ who has miscarried, is about to 
leave us, I must either cure or die ; and, upon the 
whole, I believe the former will be most expedient. 
You will see her in London, with dear Corea, next 
winter. My rival magnificently presents me with 
an hogshead of Madeira ; so that in honour I could 
not supplant him ; yet I do assure you, from my 
heart, that another departure is much more painful 



tempts to introduce the French revolutionary principles into the Pays 
de \ .iinl. Several persons were seized ; the greater pari were re- 
leased; the examination was secret} but Rosset ami La Motte wen' 
confined in the castle of Chillon; and being afterwards condemned, 
for correspondence with the French, to a long imprisonment, were 
transferred t > the castle of Arbourg, from whence the} escaped. — S. 

1 Madame de Silva. 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 369 

to me. The apartment below ! is shut up, and I 
know not when I shall again visit it with pleasure. 
Adieu. Believe me, one and all, most affectionately 
yours. 

Edward Gibbon, Esq. to the Right Hon, Lord 
Sheffield. 

Lausanne, December 28, 1791. 

Alas ! alas ! the demon of procrastination has 
again possessed me. Three months have nearly 
rolled away since your departure ; and seven letters, 
five from the most valuable Maria, and two from 
yourself, have extorted from me only a single 
epistle, which perhaps would never have been 
written, had I not used the permission of employing 
my own tongue and the hand of a secretary. Shall 
I tell you, that, for these last six weeks, the eve of 
every day has witnessed a firm resolution, and the 
day itself has furnished some ingenious delay ? 
This morning, for instance, I determined to invade 
you as soon as the breakfast things should be re- 
moved : they were removed ; but I had something 
to read, to write, to meditate, and there was time 
enough before me. Hour after hour has stolen 
away, and I finally begin my letter at two o'clock, 
evidently too late for the post, as I must dress, 
dine, go abroad, &c. A foundation, however, shall 
be laid, which shall stare me in the face ; and next 
Saturday I shall probably be roused by the awful 
reflection that it is the last day in the year. 

i The apartment principally inhabited during the residence of my 
family at Lausanne. — S. 



S70 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON 

After realising this summer an event which I 
had long considered as a dream of fancy, I know- 
not whether I should rejoice or grieve at your 
visit to Lausanne. While I possessed the family, 
the sentiment of pleasure highly predominated ; 
when, just as we had subsided in a regular, easy, 
comfortable plan of life, the last trump sounded, 
and, without speaking of the pang of separation, 
you left me to one of the most gloomy, solitary 
months of October which I have ever passed. For 
yourself and daughters, however, you have con- 
trived to snatch some of the most interesting 
scenes of this world. Paris, at such a moment, 
Switzerland, and the Rhine, Strasburg, Coblentz, 
have suggested a train of lively images and useful 
ideas, which will not be speedily erased. The 
mind of the young damsel, more especially, will 
be enlarged and enlightened in every sense. In 
four months she has lived many years ; and she 
will much deceive and displease me, if she does not 
review and methodise her journal, in such a 
manner as she is capable of performing, for the 
amusement of her particular friends. Another 
benefit which will redound from your recent view 
is, that every place, person, and object, about 
Lausanne, are now become familiar and interesting 
to you. In our future correspondence (do I dare 
pronounce the word correspondence ?) I can talk 
to you as freely of every circumstance as if it were 
actually before your eyes. And first, of my own 
improvements All those venerable piles of an- 
cient verdure which you admired have been eradi- 
cated in one fatal day. Your faithful substitutes, 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 371 

William de Severy and Levade, have never ceased 
to persecute me, till I signed their death-warrant. 
Their place is now supplied by a number of pic- 
turesque naked poles, the foster-fathers of as many 
twigs of Platanusses, which may afford a grateful 
but distant shade to the founder, or to his seris 
Nepotibus. In the mean while I must confess that 
the terrace appears broader, and that I discover a 
much larger quantity of snow than I should other- 
wise do. The workmen admire your ingenious 
plan for cutting out a new bedchamber and book- 
room ; but, on mature consideration,we all unani- 
mously prefer the old scheme of adding a third 
room on the terrace beyond the library, with two 
spacious windows, and a fire-place between. It 
will be larger (28 feet by 21), and pleasanter, and 
warmer : the difference of expense will be much 
less considerable than I imagined : the door of 
communication with the library will be artfully 
buried in the wainscot ; and, unless it be opened 
by my own choice, may always remain a profound 
secret. Such is the design ; but, as it will not be 
executed before next summer, you have time and 
liberty to state your objections. I am much colder 
about the staircase, but it maybe finished, according 
to your idea, for thirty pounds ; and I feel they 
will persuade me. Am I not a very rich man ? 
When these alterations are completed, few authors 
of six volumes in quarto will be more agreeably 
lodged than myself. Lausanne is now full and 
lively: all our native families are returned from the 
country ; and, praised be the Lord ! we are infested 
with few foreigners, either French or English. 
b b 2 



372 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON 

Even our democrats are more reasonable or more 
discreet ; it is agreed to waive the subject of 
politics, and all seem happy and cordial. I have a 
grand dinner this week, a supper of thirty or forty 
people on Twelfth-day, &c. ; some concerts have 
taken place, some balls are talked of; and even 
Maria would allow (yet it is ungenerous to say 
even Maria) that the winter scene at Lausanne is 
tolerably gay and active. I say nothing of the 
Severys, as Angletine has epistolised Maria last 
post. She has probably hinted that her brother 
meditates a short excursion to Turin : that worthy 
fellow Trevor has given him a pressing invitation 
to his own house. In the beginning of February I 
propose going to Geneva for three or four weeks. 
I shall lodge and eat with the Xeckers ; my 
mornings will be my own, and I shall spend my 
evenings in the society of the place, where I have 
many acquaintance. This short absence will agitate 
my stagnant life, and restore me with fresh appetite 
to my house, my library, and my friends. Before 
that time (the end of February) what events may 
happen, or be ready to happen ! The National 
Assembly (compared to which the former was a 
senate of heroes and demi-gods) seem resolved to 
attack Germany avec quatre millions de bayonettes 
libres ; the army of the princes must soon either 
fight, or starve, or conquer. Will Sweden draw 
his sword? will Russia draw her purse? an empty 
purse! All is darkness and anarchy : neither party 
is strong enough to oppose a settlement ; and I 
cannot see a possibility of an amicable arrangement, 
where there are no heads (in any sense of the 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AXD OTHERS. 373 

word) who can answer for the multitude. Send 
me your ideas, and those of Lord Guildford, Lord 
Loughborough, Fox, &c. 

Before I conclude, a word of my vexatious 
affairs. — Shall I never sail on the smooth stream 
of good security and half-yearly interest ? will 
every body refuse my money ? I had already 
written to Darrel and Gosling to obey your com- 
mands, and was in hopes that you had already 
made large and salutary evacuations. During 
your absence I never expected much effect from 
the cold indifference of agents ; but you are now 
in England — you will be speedily in London: 
set all your setting-dogs to beat the field, hunt, in- 
quire, why should you not. advertise ? Yet I am 
almost ashamed to complain of some stagnation of 
interest, when I am witness to the natural and ac- 
quired philosophy of so many French, who are re- 
duced from riches, not to indigence, but to absolute 
want and beggary. A Count Argout has just left 
us, who possessed ten thousand a-year in the island 
of St. Domingo ; he is utterly burnt and ruined ; 
and a brother, whom he tenderly loved, has been 
murdered by the negroes. These are real mis- 
fortunes. I have much revolved the plan of the 
Memoirs I once mentioned, and, as you do not 
think it ridiculous, I believe I shall make an at- 
tempt ; if I can please myself, I am confident of 
not displeasing ; but let this be a profound secret 
between us : people must not be prepared to 
laugh, they must be taken by surprise. Have you 
looked over your or rather my letters ? Surely, 
in the course of the year, you may find a safe and 
b b 3 



37 1 LETTERS PROM MR. GIBBON 

cheap occasion of sending me a parcel ; they may 
assist me. Adieu. I embrace my lady ; send me 
a favourable account of her health. I kiss the 
Marmaille. By an amazing push of remorse and 
diligence I have finished my letter (three pages 
and a half) this same day since dinner ; but I have 
not time to read it. Ever yours. 

Half past-six. 

To the Same. 

Lausanne, December 31, 1791. 
To-morrow a new year, multos etfelices ! 

I now most sincerely repent of my late repent- 
ance, and do almost swear never to renounce the 
amiable and useful practice of procrastination. 
Had I delayed, as I was strongly tempted, another 
post, your missive of the 13th, which did not 
reach me till this morning (three mails were due), 
would have arrived in time, and I might have 
avoided this second Herculean labour. It will be, 
however, no more than an infant Hercules. The 
topics of conversation have been fully discussed, 
and I shall now confine myself to the needful of 
the new business. Felix Jhustumque .sit ! may no 
untoward accident disarrange your Yorkshire mort- 
gage ; the conclusion of which will place me in a 
clear and easy state, such as I have never known 
since the first hour of property. * * * *. 

The three per cents are so high, and the country 
is in such a damned state of prosperity under that 
fellow Pitt, that it goes against me to purchase at 
such low interest. In my visit to England next 
autumn, or in the spring following (alas ! you 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 37.5 

must acquiesce in the alternative), I hope to be 
armed with sufficient materials to draw a sum, 
which may be employed as taste or fancy shall 
dictate, in the improvement of my library, a service 
of plate, &c. I am not very sanguine, but surely 
this is no uncomfortable prospect. This pecuniary 
detail, which has not indeed been so unpleasant as 
it used formerly to be, has carried me farther than 
I expected. I rejoice in Lally's prosperity. Have 
you reconsidered my proposal of a declaration of 
constitutional principles from the heads of the 
party ? I think a foolish address from a body of 
Whigs to the National Assembly renders it still 
more incumbent on you. Achieve my worldly 
concerns, et eris mihi magnus Apollo. Adieu, 
ever yours. 

To the Same. 

Lausanne, April 4th, 1792. 

For fear you should abuse me, as usual, I will 
begin the attack, and scold at you, for not having 
yet sent me the long-expected intelligence of the 
completion of my mortgage. Cospetto di Bacclio ! 
for I must ease myself by swearing a little. What 
is the cause, the meaning, the pretence of this 
delay ? Are the Yorkshire mortgagers inconstant 
in their wishes ? Are the London lawyers constant 
in their procrastination ? Is a letter on the road, 
to inform me that all is concluded, or to tell me 
that all is broken to pieces ? Had the money been 
placed in the three per cents last May, besides the 
annual interest, it would have gained by the rise 
b b 4 



376 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON 

of stock oearly twenty per cent. Your lordship is 
a wise man, a successful writer, and an useful 
senator ; you understand America and Ireland, 
corn and slaves ; but your prejudice against the 
funds ', in which I am often tempted to join, makes 
you a little blind to their increasing value in the 
hands of our virtuous and excellent minister. But 
our regret is vain ; one pull more, and we reach the 
shore ; and our future correspondence will be no 
longer tainted with business. Shall I then be 
more diligent and regular ? I hope and believe so ; 
for now that I have got over this article of worldly 
interest, my letter seems to be almost finished. A 
propos of letters, am I not a sad dog to forget my 
Lady and Maria ? Alas ! the dual number has 
been prejudicial to both. How happy could I be 
with either, Were t'other dear charmer awai/ ! I 
am like the ass of famous memory ; I cannot tell 
which way to turn first, and there I stand mute 
and immovable. The baronial and maternal dig- 
nity of my Lady, supported by twenty years' friend- 
ship, may claim the preference. But the five in- 
comparable letters of Maria! — Next week, how- 
ever — Am I not ashamed to talk of next week ? 

I have most successfully, and most agreeably, 
executed my plan of spending the month of March 
at Geneva, in the Necker-house ; and every cir- 
cumstance that I had arranged, turned out beyond 
my expectation : the freedom of the morning ; the 
society of the table and drawing-room, from half 
an hour past two till six or seven ; an evening 

1 It would be more correct if he had only stated in)- preference of 
landed to all other property. -- S. 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 377 

assembly and card-party, in a round of the best 
company ; and, excepting one day in the week, a 
private supper, of free and friendly conversation. 
You would like Geneva better than Lausanne ; 
there is much more information to be got among 
the men ; but though I found some agreeable 
women, their manners and style of life are, upon 
the whole, less easy and pleasant than our own. 
I was much pleased with Necker's brother, Mr. 
De Germany, a good-humoured, polite, sensible 
man, without the genius and fame of the statesman, 
but much more adapted for private and ordinary 
happiness. Madame de Stael is expected in a few 
weeks at Copet, where they receive her, and 
where, " to dumb forgetfulness a prey," she will 
have leisure to regret "the pleasing anxious being," 
which she enjoyed amidst the storms of Paris. But 
what can the poor creature do ? her husband is in 
Sweden, her lover is no longer secretary at war, 
and her father's house is the only place where she 
can reside with the least degree of prudence and 
decency. Of that father I have really a much 
higher idea than I ever had before ; in our do- 
mestic intimacy he cast away his gloom and reserve ; 
I saw a great deal of his mind, and all that I saw is 
fair and worthy. He was overwhelmed by the 
hurricane, he mistook his way in the fog ; but in 
such a perilous situation, I much doubt whether 
any mortal could have seen or stood. In the 
mean while, he is abused by all parties, and none of 
the French in Geneva will set their foot in his 
house. He remembers Lord Sheffield with esteem ; 
his health is good, and he would be tranquil in his 



378 LETTERS PROM MR. GIBBON 

private life, were not his spirits continually wounded 
by the arrival of every letter and every newspaper. 
His sympathy is deeply interested by the fatal con- 
sequences of a revolution, in which he had acted so 
leading a part ; and he feels as a friend for the 
danger of M. de Lessart, who may be guilty in the 
eyes of the Jacobins, or even of his judges, by those 
very actions and dispatches which would be most 
approved by all the lovers of his country. What a 
momentous event is the Emperor's death ! In the 
forms of a new reign, and of the Imperial election, 
the democrats have at least gained time, if they 
knew how to use it. But the new monarch, though 
of a weak complexion, is of a martial temper ; he 
loves the soldiers, and is beloved by them ; and 
the slow fluctuating politics of his uncle may be 
succeeded by a direct line of march to the gates of 
Strasbourg and Paris. It is the opinion of the 
master movers in France (I know it most certainly), 
that their troops will not fight, that the people have 
lost all sense of patriotism, and that on the first 
discharge of an Austrian cannon, the game is up. 
But what occasion for Austrians or Spaniards ? the 
French are themselves their greatest enemies ; four 
thousand Marseillois are marched against Aries and 
Avignon, the troupes de ligne are divided between 
the two parties, and the flame of civil war will soon 
extend over the southern provinces. You have 
heai d of the unworthy treatment of the Swiss re- 
giment of Ernest. The canton of Berne has bravely 
recalled them, with a stout letter to the King of 
France, which must be inserted in all the papers. I 
now come to the most unpleasant article, our home 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. #79 

politics. Rosset and La Motte are condemned to 
fine and twenty years imprisonment in the fortress 
of Arbourg. We have not yet received their official 
sentence, nor is it believed that the proofs and 
proceedings against them will be published ; an 
awkward circumstance, which it does not seem 
easy to justify. Some (though none of note) are 
taken up, several are fled, many more are suspected 
and suspicious. All are silent, but it is the silence 
of fear and discontent ; and the secret hatred which 
rankled against government begins to point against 
the few who are known to be well-affected. I never 
knew any place so much changed as Lausanne, 
even since last year ; and though you will not be 
much obliged to me for the motive, I begin very 
seriously to think of visiting Sheffield Place by the 
month of September next. Yet here again I am 
frightened, by the dangers of a French, and the 
difficulties of a German, route. You must send 
me an account of the passage from Dieppe to 
Brighton, with an itinerary of the Rhine, distances, 
expenses, &c. As usual, I just save the post, nor 
have I time to read my letter, which, after wasting 
the morning in deliberation, has been struck off in 
a heat since dinner. The views of Sheffield Place 
are just received j they are admired, and shall be 
framed. Severy has spent the carnival at Turin. 
Trevor is only the best man in the world. 

To the Same. 

Lausanne, May 30th, 1792. 

After the receipt of 'your penultirnate, eight days 
ago, I expected, with much impatience, the arrival 



380 LETTERS FROM MR, GIBBON 

of your next-promised epistle. It arrived this 
morning, but lias not completely answered my ex- 
pectations. I wanted, and I hoped for a full and 
fair picture of the present and probable aspect of 
your political world, with which, at this distance, 
I seem every day less satisfied. In the slave 
question you triumphed last session ; in this, you 
have been defeated. What is the cause of this 
alteration ? If it proceeded only from an impulse 
of humanity, I cannot be displeased, even with an 
error; since it is very likely that my own vote 
(had I possessed one) would have been added to 
the majority. But in this rage against slavery, in 
the numerous petitions against the slave trade, was 
there no leaven of new democratical principles ? 
no wild ideas of the rights and natural equality of 
man ? It is these I fear. Some articles in news- 
papers, some pamphlets of theyear, the Jockey Club, 
have fallen into my hands. I do not infer much 
from such publications ; yet I have never known 
them of so black and malignant a cast. I shuddered 
at Grey's motion ; disliked the half- support of Fox, 
admired the firmness of Pitt's declaration, and ex- 
cused the usual intemperance of Burke. Surely 
such men as ****, ##*#*#*# } *******, have talents 
for mischief. I see a club of reform which contains 
some respectable names. Inform me of the pro- 
fessions, the principles, the plans, the resources, of 
these reformers. Will they heat the minds of the 
people ? Does the French democracy gain no 
ground? Will the bulk of your party stand firm to 
their own interest, and that of their country? Will 
you not take some active measures to declare your 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 381 

sound opinions, and separate yourselves from your 
rotten members ? If you allow them to perplex 
government, if you trifle with this solemn business, 
if you do not resist the spirit of innovation in the 
first attempt, if you admit the smallest and most 
specious change in our parliamentary system, you 
are lost. You will be driven from one step to an- 
other ; from principles just in theory, to conse- 
quences most pernicious in practice ; and your first 
concessions will be productive of every subsequent 
mischief, for which you will be answerable to your 
country and to posterity. Do not suffer yourselves 
to be lulled into a false security ; remember the 
proud fabric of the French monarchy. Not four 
years ago it stood founded, as it might seem, on the 
rock of time, force, and opinion, supported by the 
triple aristocracy of the church, the nobility, and 
the parliaments. They are crumbled into dust ; 
they are vanished from the earth. If this tre- 
mendous warning has no effect on the men of pro- 
perty in England ; if it does not open every eye, 
and raise every arm, you will deserve your fate. If 
I am too precipitate, enlighten ; if I am too de- 
sponding, encourage me. 

My pen Has run into this argument ; for, as much 
a foreigner as you think me, on this momentous 
subject I feel myself an Englishman. 

The pleasure of residing at Sheffield Place is, after 
all, the first and the ultimate object of my visit to 
my native country. But when or how will that 
visit be effected ? Clouds and whirlwinds, Aus- 
trian Croats and Gallic cannibals, seem on every side 
to impede my passage. You appear to apprehend 



3S2 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON 

the perils or difficulties of the German road, and 
French peace is more sanguinary than civilised war. 
I must pass through, perhaps, a thousand republics 
or municipalities, which neither obey nor are 
obeyed. The strictness of passports, and the 
popular ferment, are much increased since last 
summer : aristocrate is in every mouth, lanterns 
hang in every street, and an hasty word, or a casual 
resemblance, may be fatal. Yet, on the other 
hand, it is probable that many English, men, 
women, and children, will traverse the country 
without any accident before next September ; and 
I am sensible that many things appear more formi- 
dable at a distance than on a nearer approach. 
Without any absolute determination, we must see 
what the events of the next three or four months 
will produce. In the mean while, I shall expect 
with impatience your next letter: let it be speedy : 
my answer shall be prompt. 

You will be glad, or sorry, to learn that my 
gloomy apprehensions are much abated, and that 
my departure, whenever it takes place, will be an 
act of choice, rather than of necessity. I do not 
pretend to affirm, that secret discontent, dark sus- 
picion, private animosity, are very materially as- 
suaged ; but we have not experienced, nor do we 
now apprehend, any dangerous acts of violence, 
which may compel me to seek a refuge among the 
friendly Bears 1 , and to abandon my library to the 
mercy of the democrats. The firmness and vigour 
of government have crushed, at least for a time, the 
spirit of innovation ; and I do not believe that the 

1 Berne. 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 383 

body of the people, especially the peasants, are dis- 
posed for a revolution From France, praised be 
the demon of anarchy ! the insurgents of the Pays 
de Vaud could not at present have much to hope ; 
and should the gardes nationales, of which there is 
little appearance, attempt an incursion, the country 
is armed and prepared, and they would be resisted 
with equal numbers and superior discipline. The 
Gallic wolves that prowled round Geneva are drawn 
away, some to the south and some to the north, and 
the late events in Flanders seem to have diffused a 
general contempt, as well as abhorrence, for the 
lawless savages, who fly before the enemy, hang 
their prisoners, and murder their officers. The brave 
and patient regiment of Ernest is expected home 
every day, and as Berne will take them into present 
pay, that veteran and regular corps will add to the 
security of our frontier. 

I rejoice that we have so little to say on the 
subject of worldly affairs. This summer we are 
threatened with an inundation, besides many name- 
less English and Irish j but I am anxious for the 
Duchess of Devonshire and the Lady Elizabeth 
Foster, who are on their march. Lord Malmesbury, 
the audacieux Harris, will inform you that he has 
seen me : him I would have consented to keep. 

One word more before we part ; call upon Mr. 
John Nicholls, bookseller and printer, at Cicero's 
Head, Red Lion Passage, Fleet Street, and ask him 
whether he did not, about the beginning of March, 
receive a very polite letter from Mr. Gibbon of 
Lausanne ? To which, either as a man of business 
or a civil gentleman, he should have returned an 



384. LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBOX 

answer. My application related to a domestic 
article in the Gentleman's Magazine of August 
1788 (p. 698.), which had lately fallen into my 
hands, and concerning which I requested some 
farther lights. Mrs. Moss delivered the letters l 
into my hands, but I doubt whether they will be 
of much service to me ; the work appears far more 
difficult in the execution than in the idea, and as I 
am now taking my leave for some time of the library, 
I shall not make much progress in the memoirs of 
P. P. till I am on English ground. But is it indeed 
true, that I shall eat any Sussex pheasants this 
autumn ? The event is in the book of Fate, and 
I cannot unrol the leaves of September and October. 
Should I reach Sheffield Place, I hope to find the 
whole family in a perfect state of existence, except 
a certain Maria Holroyd, my fair and generous cor- 
respondent, whose annihilation on proper terms I 
most fervently desire. I must receive a copious 
answer before the end of next month, June, and 
again call upon you for a map of your political 
world. The chancellor roars ; does he break his 
chain ? J^ale* 

To the Same. 

Lausanne, August 23, 1792. 

When I inform you, that the design of my 
English expedition is at last postponed till another 
year, you will not be much surprised. The public 
obstacles, the danger of one road, and the difficul- 
ties of another, would alone be sufficient to arrest so 

1 His letters to me for a certain period, which he desired mc to send, 
to assist him in writing his Memoirs. — S. 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 385 

unwieldy and inactive a being; and these obstacles, 
on the side of France, are growing every day more 
insuperable. On the other hand, the terrors which 
might have driven me from hence have, in a great 
measure, subsided ; our state prisoners are for- 
gotten: the country begins to recover its old good 
humour and unsuspecting confidence, and the last 
revolution of Paris appears to have convinced 
almost every body of the fatal consequences of 
democratical principles, which lead by a path of 
flowers into the abyss of hell. I may therefore 
wait with patience and tranquillity till the Duke of 
Brunswick shall have opened the French road. 
But if I am not driven from Lausanne, you will ask, 
I hope with some indignation, whether I am not 
drawn to England, and more especially to Sheffield 
Place ? The desire of embracing you and yours 
is now the strongest, and, must gradually become 
the sole inducement that can force me from my 
library and garden, over seas and mountains. The 
English world will forget and be forgotten, and 
every year will deprive me of some acquaintance, 
who by courtesy are styled friends ; Lord Guilford 
and Sir Joshua Reynolds ! two of the men, and 
two of the houses in London, on whom I the most 
relied for the comforts of society. 

September 12th, 1792. 

Thus far had I written in the full confidence of 
finishing and sending my letter the next post ; but 
six post-days have unaccountably slipped away, 
and were you not accustomed to my silence, you 
would almost begin to think me on the road. Plow 
c c 



38(3 



LEI VERS Fito.M MR. GIBBON 



dreadfully, since my last date, has the French road 

been polluted with blood ! and what horrid scenes 
may he acting- at this moment, and may still be 
aggravated, till the Duke of Brunswick is master of 
Paris ! On every rational principle of calculation 
he must succeed ; yet sometimes, when my spirits 
are low, I dread the blind efforts of mad and des- 
perate multitudes fighting on their own ground. A 
few days or weeks must decide the military opera- 
tions of this year, and perhaps for ever; but on the 
fairest supposition, I cannot look forwards to any 
firm settlement, either of a legal or an absolute 
government. 1 cannot pretend to give you any 
Paris news. Should I inform you, as we believe, 
that Lally is still among the cannibals, you would 
possibly answer, that he is now sitting in the library 
at Sheffield. Madame de Stael, after miraculously 
escaping through pikes and poignards, has reached 
the castle of Copet, where I shall see her before 
the end of the week. If any thing can provoke the 
king of Sardinia and the Swiss, it must be the foul 
destruction of his cousin Madame de Lamballe, and 
of their regiment of guards. An extraordinary 
council is summoned at Berne, but resentment may 
be checked by prudence. In spite of Maria's laughter, 
I applaud your moderation, and sigh for a hearty 
union of all the sense and property of the country. 
The times require it ; but your last political letter 
was a cordial to my spirits. The Duchess of Devon- 
shire rather dislikes a coalition : amiable creature! 
The Eliza is furious against you for not writing. We 
shall lose them in a few days ; but the motions 
of the Eliza and the duchess for Italy or England, 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AXD OTHERS. 387 

are doubtful. Lady Spencer and Duncannon cer- 
tainly pass the Alps. I live with them. Adieu. 
Since I do not appear in person, I feel the absolute 
propriety of writing to my Lady and Maria ; but 
there is far from the knowledge to the performance 
of a duty. Ever yours. 

To the Same. 

Lausanne, October 5th, 1792. 

As our English newspapers must have informed 
you of the invasion of Savoy by the French, and 
as it is possible that you may have some trifling 
apprehensions of my being killed and eaten by those 
cannibals, it has appeared to me that a short extra- 
ordinary dispatch might not be unacceptable on 
this occasion. It is indeed true, that about ten 
days ago the French army of the South, under the 
command of M. de Montesquiou (if any French 
army can be said to be under any command), en- 
tered Savoy, and possessed themselves of Cham- 
berry, Montmelian, and several other places. It 
has always been the practice of the King of Sar- 
dinia to abandon his transalpine dominions ; but on 
this occasion the court of Turin appears to have 
been surprised by the strange eccentric motions of 
a democracy, which always acts from the passion 
of the moment ; and their inferior troops have re- 
treated, with some loss and disgrace, into the passes 
of the Alps. Mount Cenis is now impervious, and 
our English travellers who are bound for Italy, 
the Duchess of Devonshire, Ancaster, &c, will be 
forced to explore a long circuitous road through 
the Tyrol. But the Chablais is yet intact, nor can 
c c 2 



388 l.l.i 1 ERS 1 ROM Mi;. GIBBON 

our telescopes discover the tricolour banners on the 
other side of the lake. Our accounts of the French 
numbers seem to vary from fifteen to thirty thou- 
sand men ; the regulars are few, but they are 
followed by a rabble rout, which must soon, how- 
ever, melt away, as they will find no plunder, and 
scanty subsistence, in the poverty and barrenness of 
Savoy. iV. B. I have just seen a letter from M. 
de Montesquiou, who boasts that at his first en- 
trance into Savoy he had only twelve battalions. 
Our intelligence is far from correct. 

The magistrates of Geneva were alarmed by 
this dangerous neighbourhood, and more espe- 
cially by the well-known animosity of an exiled 
citizen, Claviere, who is one of the six ministers 
of the French Republic. It was carried by a small 
majority in the General Council, to call in the suc- 
cour of three thousand Swiss, which is stipulated 
by ancient treaty. The strongest reason or pre- 
tence of the minority, was founded on the danger 
of provoking the French, and they seem to have 
been justified by the event: since the complaint of 
the French resident amounts to a declaration of 
war. The fortifications of Geneva are not con- 
temptible, especially on the side of Savoy ; and it 
is much doubted whether M. de Montesquoiu is 
prepared for a regular siege ; but the malecontents 
are numerous within the walls, and I question whe- 
ther the spirit of the citizens will hold out against 
a bombardment. In the mean while the diet has 
declared that the first cannon tired against Geneva 
will he considered as an act of hostility against the 
whole Helvetic body. Berne, as the nearest and 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 389 

most powerful canton, has taken the lead with great 
vigour and vigilance ; the road is filled with the 
perpetual succession of troops and artillery; and, if 
some disaffection lurks in the towns, the peasants, 
especially the Germans, are inflamed with a strong 
desire of encountering the murderers of their coun- 
trymen. Mr. de Watteville, with whom you dined 
at my house last year, refused to accept the com- 
mand of the Swiss succour of Geneva, till it was 
made his first instruction that he should never, in 
any case, surrender himself prisoner of war. 

In this situation, you may suppose that we have 
some fears. I have great dependence, however, on 
the many chances in our favour, the valour of the 
Swiss, the return of the Piedmontese with their 
Austrian allies, eight or ten thousand men from the 
Milanese, a diversion from Spain, the great events 
(how slowly they proceed) on the side of Paris, the 
inconstancy and want of discipline of the French, 
and the near approach of the winter season. I am 
not nervous, but I will not be rash. It will be 
painful to abandon my house and library ; but, if 
the danger should approach, I will retreat before 
it, first to Berne, and gradually to the North. 
Should I even be forced to take refuge in England 
(a violent measure so late in the year), you would 
perhaps receive me as kindly as you do the French 
priests — a noble act of hospitality ! Could I have 
foreseen this storm, I would have been there six 
weeks ago : but who can foresee the wild measures 
of the savages of Gaul ? We thought ourselves 
perfectly out of the hurricane latitudes. Adieu. 
I am going to bed, and must rise early to visit the 
c c 3 



390 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON 

Neckers at llolle, whither they have retired, from 
the frontier situation of Copet. Severy is on 
horseback, with his dragoons : his poor father is 
dangerously ill. It will be shocking if it should 
be found necessary to remove him. While we 
are in this very awkward crisis, I will write at least 
every week. Ever yours. Write instantly, and 
remember all my commissions. 

To the Same. 

I will keep my promise of sending you a weekly 
journal of our troubles, that, when the piping times 
of peace are restored, I may sleep in long and irre- 
proachable silence : but I shall use a smaller paper, 
as our military exploits will seldom be sufficient to 
fill the ample size of our English quarto. 

October 13, 1792. 

Since my last of the 6th, our attack is not more 
imminent, and our defence is most assuredly 
stronger, two very important circumstances, at a 
time when every day is leading us, though not so 
fast as our impatience could wish, towards the un- 
warlike month of November ; and we observe with 
pleasure that the troops of M. de Montesquiou, 
which are chiefly from the Southern Provinces, 
will not cheerfully entertain the rigour of an Alpine 
winter. The 7th instant, M. de Chateauneuf, the 
French resident, took his leave with an haughty 
mandate, commanding the Genevois, as they 
valued their safety and the friendship of the Re- 
public, to dismiss their Swiss allies, and to punish 
the magistrates who had tiaiterouslv proposed the 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 391 

calling in these foreign troops, It is precisely the 
fable of the wolves, who offered to make peace 
with the sheep, provided they would send away 
their dogs. You know what became of the sheep. 
This demand appears to have kindled a just and 
general indignation, since it announced an edict of 
proscription ; and must lead to a democratical re- 
volution, which would probably renew the horrid 
scenes of Paris and Avignon. A general assembly 
of the citizens was convened, the message was 
read, speeches were made, oaths were taken, and it 
was resolved (with only three dissentient voices) 
to live and die in the defence of their country. 
The Genevois muster above three thousand well- 
armed citizens ; and the Swiss, who may easily be 
increased (in a few hours) to an equal number, add 
spirit to the timorous, and confidence to the well- 
affected : their arsenals are filled with arms, their 
magazines with ammunition, and their granaries 
with corn. But their fortifications are extensive 
and imperfect, they are commanded from two ad- 
jacent hills ; a French faction lurks in the city, the 
character of the Genevois is rather commercial than 
military, and their behaviour, lofty promise, and 
base surrender, in the year 1782, is fresh in our 
memories. In the mean while, four thousand 
French at the most are arrived in the neighbouring 
camp, nor is there yet any appearance of mortars 
or heavy artillery. Perhaps an haughty menace 
may be repelled by a firm countenance. If it were 
worth while talking of justice, what a shameful 
attack of a feeble, unoffending state! On the news 
of their danger, all Switzerland, from Schaffhausen 
c c 4 



39*2 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON 

to the Pays de Vaud, has risen in arms ; and a 
French resident, who lias passed through the 
country, in his way from Ratisbon, declares his 
intention of informing and admonishing the Na- 
tional Convention. About eleven thousand Ber- 
nois are already posted in the neighbourhood of 
Copet and Nyon ; and new reinforcements of men, 
artillery, &c. arrive every day. Another army is 
drawn together to oppose M. de Ferrieres, on the 
side of Bienne and the bishopric of Basle ; and the 
Austrians in Swabia would be easily persuaded to 
cross the Rhine in our defence. But we are yet 
ignorant whether our sovereigns mean to wage an 
offensive or defensive war. If the latter, which is 
more likely, will the French begin the attack ? 
Should Geneva yield to fear or force, this country 
is open to an invasion ; and though our men are 
brave, we want generals ; and I despise the French 
much less than I did two months ago. It should 
seem that our hopes from the King of Sardinia and 
the Austrians of Milan are faint and distant; Spain 
sleeps ; and the Duke of Brunswick (amazement !) 
seems to have failed in his great project. For my 
part, till Geneva falls, I do not think of a retreat ; 
but, at all events, I am provided with two strong 
horses, and an hundred Louis in gold. Zurich 
would be probably my winter quarters, and the 
society of the Neckers would make any place 
agreeable. Their situation is worse than mine ; I 
have no daughter ready to lie in ; nor do I 
fear the French aristocrats on the road. Adieu. 
Keep my letters ; excuse contradictions and repe- 
titious. The Duchess of Devonshire leaves us 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 393 

next week. Lady Elizabeth abhors you. Ever 
yours. 

To the Same. 

October 20, 1792. 

Since my last, our affairs take a more pacific 
turn ; but I will not venture to affirm that our 
peace will be either safe or honourable. M. de 
Montesquiou and three Commissioners of the Con- 
' vention, who are at Carrouge, have had frequent 
conferences with the magistrates of Geneva ; se- 
veral expresses have been dispatched to and from 
Paris, and every step of the negociation is commu- 
nicated to the deputies of Berne and Zurich. 
The French troops observe a very tolerable degree 
of order and discipline; and no act of hostility has 
yet been committed on the territory of Geneva, 

October 27. 

My usual temper very readily admitted the 
excuse, that it would be better to wait another 
week, till the final settlement of our affairs. The 
treaty is signed between France and Geneva; and the 
ratification of the Convention is looked upon as as- 
sured, if any thing can be assured, in that wild de- 
mocracy. On condition that the Swiss garrison, 
with the approbation of Berne and Zurich, be re- 
called before the first of December, it is stipulated 
that the independence of Geneva shall be preserved 
inviolate ; that M. de Montesquiou shall imme- 
diately send away his heavy artillery ; and that 
no French troops shall approach within ten leagues 
of the city. As the Swiss have acted only as 



o[)h LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON 

auxiliaries, they have no occasion for a direct 
treaty ; but they cannot prudently disarm, till they 
are satisfied of the pacific intentions of France ; 
and no such satisfaction can be given till they 
have acknowledged the new Republic, which they 
will probably do in a few days, with a deep groan 
of indignation and sorrow ; it has been cemented 
with the blood of their countrymen ! But when 
the Emperor, the King of Prussia, the first ge- 
neral and the first army in Europe have failed, 
less powerful states may acquiesce, without dis- 
honour, in the determination of fortune. Do you 
understand this most unexpected failure ? I will 
allow an ample share to the badness of the roads 
and the weather, to famine and disease, to the skill 
ofDumourier, a heaven-born general ! and to the 
enthusiastic ardour of the new Romans ; but still, 
still there must be some secret and shameful cause 
at the bottom of this strange retreat. We are now 
delivered from the impending terrors of siege and 
invasion. The Geneva emigres, particularly the 
Neckers, are hastening to their homes ; and I shall 
not be reduced to the hard necessity of seeking a 
winter asylum at Zurich or Constance ; but I am 
not pleased with our future prospects. It is much to 
be feared that the present government of Geneva 
will be soon modelled after the French fashion ; the 
new republic of Savoy is forming on the opposite 
bank of the Lake ; the Jacobin missionaries are 
powerful and zealous; and the malecontents of this 
country, who begin again to rear their heads, will 
be surrounded with temptations, and examples, and 
allies. I know not whether the Pays de Valid will 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 395 

long adhere to the dominion of Berne ; or whether 
I shall be permitted to end my days in this little 
paradise which I have so happily suited to my taste 
and circumstances. 

Last Monday only I received your letter, which 
had strangely loitered on the road since its date of 
the 29th of September. There must surely be 
some disorder in the posts, since the Eliza departed 
indignant at never having heard from you. 

I am much indebted to Mr. Nichols for his 
genealogical communications, which I am impa- 
tient to receive ; but I do not understand why so 
civil a gentleman could not favour me, in six 
months, with an answer by the post ; since he 
entrusts me w 7 ith these valuable papers, you have 
not, I presume, informed him of my negligence 
and awkwardness in regard to manuscripts. Your 
reproach rather surprises me, as I suppose I am 
much the same as I have been for these last twenty 
years. Should you hold your resolution of writing 
only such things as may be published at Charing 
Cross, our future correspondence would not be 
very interesting. But I expect and require, at this 
important crisis, a full and confidential account of 
your views concerning England, Ireland, and 
France. You have a strong and clear eye ; and 
your pen is, perhaps, the most useful quill that 
ever has been plucked from a goose. Your protec- 
tion of the French refugees is highly applauded. 
Rosset and La Motte have escaped from Arbourg, 
perhaps with connivance to avoid disagreeable 
demands from the republic. Adieu. Ever yours. 



396 LETTERS FROM' MR. GIBBON". 

To the Same. 



November 10, 1792. 



Received this clay, November 9th, a most ami- 
able dispatch from the too humble secretary 1 of the 
family of Espee 2 , dated October 21-th, which I 
answer the same day. It will be acknowledged, 
that I have fulfilled my engagements with as much 
accuracy as our uncertain state and the fragility of 
human nature would allow. I resume my narra- 
tive. At the time when we imagined that all was 
settled, by an equal treaty between two such 
unequal powers, as the Geneva Flea and the French 
Leviathan, we were thunderstruck with the intel- 
ligence that the ministers of the republic refused to 
ratify the conditions : and they were indignant, 
with some colour of reason, at the hard obligation 
of withdrawing their troops to the distance of ten 
leagues, and of consequently leaving the Pays de 
Gez naked, and exposed to the Swiss, who had 
assembled 1,5,000 men on the frontier, and with 
whom they had not made any agreement. The 
messenger who was sent last Sunday from Geneva 
is not yet returned; and many persons are afraid of 
some design and danger in this delay. Montes- 
quiou has acted with politeness, moderation, and 
apparent sincerity ; but he may resign, he may be 
superseded, his place may be occupied by an 
enrage, by Servan, or Prince Charles of Hesse, who 
would aspire to imitate the predatory fame of 
Custine in Germany. In the mean while, the 

1 Miss Holroyd. - Meaning Sheffield Place. 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 397 

General holds a wolf by the ears ; an officer who 
has seen his troops, about 18,000 men (with a tre- 
mendous train of artillery), represents them as a 
black, daring, desperate crew of buccaneers, rather 
shocking than contemptible ; the officers (scarcely 
a gentleman among them) without servants, or 
horses, or baggage, lying higgledy piggledy on the 
ground with the common men, yet maintaining a 
rough kind of discipline over them. They already 
begin to accuse and even to suspect their general, 
and call aloud for blood and plunder : could they 
have an opportunity of squeezing some of the rich 
citizens, Geneva would cut up as fat as most towns 
in Europe. During this suspension of hostilities 
they are permitted to visit the city without arms, 
sometimes three or four hundred at a time; and the 
magistrates, as well as the Swiss commander, are 
by no means pleased with this dangerous inter- 
course, which they dare not prohibit. Such are 
our fears : yet it should seem, on the other side, 
that the French affect a kind of magnanimous 
justice towards their little neighbour, and that 
they are not ambitious of an unprofitable contest 
with the poor and hardy Swiss. The Swiss are 
not equal to a long and expensive war ; and as 
most of our militia have families and trades, the 
country already sighs for their return. Whatever 
can be yielded, without absolute danger or disgrace, 
will doubtless be granted ; and the business will 
probably end in our owning the sovereignty, and 
trusting to the good faith of the republic of France; 
how that word would have sounded four years 
ago ! The measure is humiliating ; but after the 



398 LETTERS FItOM Mil. GIBBON 

retreat of the Duke of Brunswick, and the failure 
of the Austrians, the smaller powers may acquiesce 
without dishonour. Every dog has his day ; and 
these Gallic dogs have their day, at least, of most 
insolent prosperity. After forcing or tempting the 
Prussians to evacuate their country, they conquer 
Savoy, pillage Germany, threaten Spain : the Low 
Countries are ere now invaded ; Rome and Italy 
tremble ; they scour the Mediterranean, and talk 
of sending a squadron into the South Sea. The 
whole horizon is so black, that I begin to feel some 
anxiety for England, the last refuge of liberty and 
law ; and the more so, as I perceive from Lord 
Sheffield's last epistle that his firm nerves are a 
little shaken : but of this more in my next, for I 
want to unburden my conscience. If England, 
with the experience of our happiness and French 
calamities, should now be seduced to eat the apple 
of false freedom, we should indeed deserve to be 
driven from the paradise which we enjoy. I turn 
aside from the horrid and improbable (yet not 
impossible) supposition, that, in three or four years' 
time, myself and my best friends may be reduced 
to the deplorable state of the French emigrants ; 
they thought it as impossible three or four years 
ago. Never did a revolution affect, to such a 
degree, the private existence of such numbers of 
the first people of a great country : your examples 
of misery I could easily match with similar ex- 
amples in this country and the neighbourhood ; and 
our sympathy is the deeper, as we do not possess, 
like you, the means of alleviating, in some degree, 
the misfortunes of the fugitives. But I must have, 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 399 

from the very excellent pen of the Maria, the tra- 
gedy of the Archbishop of Aries ; and the longer 
the better. Madame de Biron has probably been 
tempted by some faint and (I fear) fallacious 
promises of clemency to the women, and which 
have likewise engaged Madame d'Aguesseau and 
her two daughters to revisit France. Madame de 
Bouillon stands her ground, and her situation as a 
foreign princess is less exposed. As Lord Sheffield 
has assumed the glorious character of protector of 
the distressed, his name is pronounced with gra- 
titude and respect. The Duke of Richmond is 
praised, on Madame de Biron's account. To the 
Princess d'Henin, and Lally, I wish to be remem- 
bered. The Neckers cannot venture into Geneva, 
and Madame de Stael will probably lie in at Rolle. 
He is printing a defence of the King, &c. against 
their republican Judges ; but the name of Necker 
is unpopular to all parties, and I much fear that 
the guillotine will be more speedy than the press. 
It will, however, be an eloquent performance ; and, 
if I find an opportunity, I am to send you one, to 
you Lord Sheffield, by his particular desire : he 
wishes likewise to convey some copies with speed 
to our principal people, Pitt, Fox, Lord Stormont, 
&c. But such is the rapid succession of events, 
that it will appear like the Pouvoir Executif, his 
best work, after the whole scene has been totally 
changed. Ever yours. 

P. S. The revolution of France, and my triple 
dispatch by the same post to Sheffield Place, 
are, in my opinion, the two most singular 



400 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON' 

events in the eighteenth century. I found the 
task so easy and pleasant, that I had some 
thoughts of adding a letter to the gentle 
Louisa. I am this moment informed, that 
our troops on the frontier are beginning to 
move, on their return home ; yet we hear 
nothing of the treaty's being concluded. 

Edward Gibbon, Esq. to the Hon. Miss Holroyd. 

Lausanne, Nov. 10, 1792. 

In dispatching the weekly political journal to 
Lord Sheffield, my conscience (for I have some 
remains of conscience) most powerfully urges me 
to salute, with some lines of friendship and gratitude, 
the amiable secretary, who might save herself the 
trouble of a modest apology. I have not yet for- 
gotten our different behaviour after the much 
lamented separation of October the 4th, 1791, 
your meritorious punctuality, and my unworthy 
silence. I have still before me that entertaining 
narrative, which would have interested me, not 
only in the progress of the carissimafamiglia, but 
in the motions of a Tartar camp, or the march of 
a caravan of Arabs ; the mixture of just observation 
and lively imagery, the strong sense of a man, ex- 
pressed with the easy elegance of a female. I still 
recollect with pleasure the happy comparison of 
the Rhine, who had heard so much of liberty on 
both his banks, that he wandered with mischievous 
licentiousness over all the adjacent meadows. 1 

1 Mr. (iibbon alludes to letters written to him by Miss Holroyd, 
when she was returning from Switzerland, along the Rhine to England. 
-S. 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 401 

The inundation, alas ! has now spread much wider ; 
and it is sadly to be feared that the Elbe, the Po, 
and the Danube, may imitiate the vile example of 
the Rhine : I shall be content, however, if our own 
Thames still preserves his fair character of 

Strong without rage, without o'erflowing full. 

These agreeable epistles of Maria produced only 
some dumb intentions, and some barren remorse ; 
nor have I deigned, except by a brief missive from 
my chancellor, to express how much I loved the 
author, and how much I was pleased with the 
composition. That amiable author I have known 
and loved from the first dawning of her life and 
coquetry, to the present maturity of her talents ; 
and as long as I remain on this planet, I shall pur- 
sue, with the same tender and even anxious con- 
cern, the future steps of her establishment and life. 
That establishment must be splendid ; that life 
must be happy. She is endowed with every gift 
of nature and fortune ; but the advantage which 
she will derive from them, depends almost entirely 
on herself. You must not, you shall not, think 
yourself unworthy to write to any man : there is 
none whom your correspondence would not amuse 
and satisfy. I will not undertake a task which 
my taste would adopt, and my indolence would 
too soon relinquish ; but I am really curious, from 
the best motives, to have a particular account of 
your own studies and daily occupation. What 
books do you read ? and how do you employ your 
time and your pen ? Except some professed scho- 
lars, I have often observed that women in general 

D D 



402 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON 

read much more than men ; but, for want of a 
plan, a method, a fixed object, their reading is of 
little benefit to themselves, or others. If you will 
inform me of the species of reading to which you 
have the most propensity, I shall be happy to con- 
tribute my share of advice or assistance. I lament 
that you have not left me some monument of your 
pencil. Lady Elizabeth Foster has executed a 
very pretty drawing, taken from the door of the 
green-house where we dined last summer, and in- 
cluding the poor Acacia (now recovered from the 
cruel shears of the gardener), the end of the terrace, 
the front of the Pavilion, and a distant view of the 
country, lake, and mountains. I am almost recon- 
ciled to d' Apples' house, which is nearly finished. 
Instead of the monsters which Lord Hercules Shef- 
field extirpated, the terrace is already shaded with 
the new acacias and plantains ; and although the 
uncertainty of possession restrains me from build- 
ing, I myself have planted a bosquet at the bottom 
of the garden, with such admirable skill that it af- 
fords shade without intercepting prospect. The 
society of the aforesaid Eliza, of the Duchess of 
Devonshire, &c. has been very interesting ; but 
they are now flown beyond the Alps, and pass the 
winter at Pisa. The Legards, who have long since 
left this place, should be at present in Italy ; but I 
believe Mrs. Grimstone and her daughter returned 
to England. The Levades are highly flattered by 
your remembrance. Since you still retain some 
attachment to this delightful country, and it is 
indeed delightful, why should you despair of seeing 
it once more? The happy peer or commoner, 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 403 

whose name you may assume, is still concealed in 
the book of fate ; but, whosoever he may be, he 
will cheerfully obey your commands, of leading 

you from Castle to Lausanne, and from 

Lausanne, to Rome and Naples. Before that event 
takes place, I may possibly see you in Sussex; 
and, whether as a visitor or a fugitive, I hope to be 
welcomed with a friendly embrace. The delay of 
this year was truly painful, but it was inevitable ; 
and individuals must submit to those storms which 
have overturned the thrones of the earth. The 
tragic story of the Archbishop of Aries I have now 
somewhat a better right to require at your hands. 
I wish to have it in all its horrid details ! ; and as 



1 The answer to Mr. Gibbon's letter is annexed, as giving the best 
account I hare seen of thebarbarous transaction alluded to. — S. 

" Sheffield-Place, November, 1792. 

" Your three letters received yesterday caused the most sincere 
pleasure to each individual of this family ; to none more than myself. 
Praise (I fear, beyond my deserts), from one whose opinion I so highly 
value, and whose esteem I so much wish to preserve, is more pleasing 
than I can describe. I had not neglected to make the collection of 
facts which you recommend, and which the great variety of unfor- 
tunate persons whom we see, or with whom we correspond, enables 
me to make. 

" As to that part of your letter which respects my studies, I can only 
say, the slightest hint on that subject is always received with the 
greatest gratitude, and attended to with the utmost punctuality ; but I 
must decline that topic for the present, to obey your commands, which 
require from me the horrid account of the massacre aux Carmes. — 
Eight respectable ecclesiastics landed about the beginning of October, 
from an open boat at Seaford, wet as the waves. The natives of the 
coast were endeavouring to get from them what they had not, (viz.) 
money, when a gentleman of the neighbourhood came to their pro- 
tection ; and, finding they had nothing, showed his good sense, by dis- 
patching them to Milord Sheffield : they had been pillaged, and with 
great difficulty had escaped from Paris. The reception they met with 
at this house, seemed to make the greatest impression on them ; they 
were in ecstasy on finding M. de Lally living : they gradually became 
cheerful, and enjoyed their 'dinner : they were greatly affected as they 
recollected themselves, and found us attending on them. Having 
dined, and drank a glass of wine, they began to discover the beauties 
D D 2 



401< LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON 

you are now so much mingled with the French 
exiles, I am of opinion, that were you to keep a 



of the dining-room and of the chateau : as they walked about, they 
were overheard to express their admiration at the treatment they met, 
and from Protestants. We then assembled in the library, formed half 
a circle round the fire, M. de Lally and Milord occupying the hearth, a 
la Angloise, and questioning the priests concerning their escape. Thus 
we discovered, that two of these unfortunate men were in the Car- 
melite convent at the time of the massacre of the one hundred and 
twenty priests, and had most miraculously escaped by climbing trees in 
the garden, and from thence over the tops of the buildings. One of 
them, a man of superior appearance, described, in the most pathetic 
manner, the death of the archbishop of Aries, to the following purport, 
and with such simplicity and feeling, as to leave no doubt of tiie truth 
of all that he said. — On the second of September, about five o'clock in 
the evening, at the time they were permitted to walk in the garden, ex- 
pecting every hour to be released, they expressed their surprise at seeing 
several large pits, which had been digging for two days past : they said, 
' The day is almost spent ; and yet Manuel told a person who interceded 
for us last Thursday, that on the Sunday following not one should 
remain in captivity : we are still prisoners.' Soon after they heard 
shouts, and some musquet-shots. An ensign of the national-guard, 
some commissaries of the sections, and some Marseillois rushed in : 
the miserable victims, who were dispersed in the garden, assembled 
under the walls of the church, not daring to go in, lest it should be 
polluted with blood. One man, who was behind the rest, was shot. 
' Point de coup de fusil,' cried one of the chiefs of the assassins, thinking 
that kind of death too easy. These well-trained fusileers went to the 
rear ; les piques, les haches, les poignards came forward. They de- 
manded the Archbishop of Aries; he was immediately surrounded by 
all the priests. The worthy prelate said to his friends, ' Let me pass ; 
if my blood will appease them, what signifies it, if I die ? Is it not 
my duty to preserve your lives at the expense of my own ?' He asked 
the eldest of the priests to give him absolution : he knelt to receive it ; 
and when he arose, forced himself from them, advanced slowly, ami 
with his arms crossed upon his breast, and his eyes raised to heaven, 
said to the assassins, ' Je suis cc/ui que vous cherc/iez.' His appearance 
was so dignified and noble, that, during ten minutes, not one of these 
wretches had courage to lift his hand against him : they upbraided 
each other with cowardice, and advanced ; one look from this venerable 
man struck them with awe, and they retired. At last, one of the mis- 
creants struck off the cap of the archbishop with a pike ; respect once 
violated, their fury returned, and another from behind cut him through 
the skull with a sabre. He raised his right hand to his eyes ; with an- 
other stroke they cut offhishand. The Archbishop said '01 man Dieu! 1 
and raised the other : a third stroke across the face left him sitting; 
the fourth extended him lifeless on the ground; and then all pressed 
forward, and buried their pikes and poignards in the body. The priests 
all agreed, that he had been one of the most amiable men in France ; 
ami that his only crime was having, since the revolution, expended his 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 405 

journal of all the authentic facts which they relate, 
it would be an agreeable exercise at present, and a 
future source of entertainment and instruction. 

I should be obliged to you, if you would make, 
or find, some excuse for my not answering a letter 
from your aunt, which was presented to me by 
Mr. Fowler. I showed him some civilities, but 
he is now a poor invalid, confined to his room. 
By her channel and yours I should be glad to have 
some information of the health, spirits, and situation 
of Mrs. Gibbon of Bath, whose alarms (if she has 
any) you may dispel. She is in my debt. Adieu ; 
most truly yours. 



private fortune, to support the necessitous clergy of his diocese. The 
second victim was the General des Benedictines. Then the national 
guards obliged the priests to go into the church, telling them, they 
should appear, one after another, before the Commissaires du section. 
They had hardly entered, before the people impatiently called for them; 
upon which, all kneeling before the altar, the Bishop of Beauvais gave 
them absolution ; they were then obliged to go out, two by two ; they 
passed before a commissaire, who did not question, but only counted, 
his victims *; they had in their sight the heaps of dead, to which they 
were going to add. Among the one hundred and twenty priests thus 
sacrificed, were the Bishops of Zaintes and Beauvais (both of the 
Rochefoucauld family). I should not omit to remark, that one of the 
priests observed, they were assassinated, because they would not swear 
to a constitution which their murderers had destroyed. We had (to 
comfort us for this melancholy story) the most grateful expressions of 
gratitude towards the English nation, from whom they did not do us 
the justice to expect such a reception. 

" There can be no doubt that the whole business of the massacres 
was concerted at a meeting 'at the Duke of Orleans' house. I shall 
make you as dismal as myself by this narration. I must change the 
style." **#■######*" Citoyen Gibbon, je suis 
ton egal. " Maria J. Holroyd." 



'= ...... . Visum est lenti qusesisse noccntem 

In numerum pars magna perit. Lucan, lib.ii. ver. 110. — S. 



D D 3 



406 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON 

Edward Gibbon, Esq., to the Rigid Hon. Lady 
Sheffield. 

Lausanne, November 10th, 1792. 

I could never forgive myself, were I capable of 
writing by the same post a political epistle to the 
father, and a friendly letter to the daughter, without 
sending any token of remembrance to the respec- 
table matron, my dearest my Lady, whom I have 
now loved as a sister for something better or worse 
than twenty years. No, indeed, the historian may 
be careless, he may be indolent, he may always in- 
tend and never execute, but he is neither a monster 
nor a statue ; he has a memory, a conscience, a 
heart, and that heart is sincerely devoted to Lady 
Sheffield. He must even acknowledge the fallacy 
of a sophism which he has sometimes used, and she 
has always and most truly denied ; that, where the 
persons of a family are strictly united, the writing 
to one is in fact writing to all ; and that conse- 
quently all his numerous letters to the husband 
may be considered as equally addressed to his wife. 
He feels, on the contrary, that separate minds have 
their distinct ideas, and sentiments, and that each 
character, either in speaking or writing, has its pe- 
culiar tone of conversation. He agrees with the 
maxim of Rousseau, that three friends who wish to 
disclose a common secret, will impart it only deux 
a deux ; and he is satisfied that on the present 
memorable occasion, each of the persons of the 
Sheffield family will claim a peculiar share in this 
triple missive, which will communicate, however, 
a triple satisfaction. The experience of what may 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 407 

be effected by vigorous resolution, encourages the 
historian to hope that he shall cast the skin of the 
old serpent, and hereafter show himself as a new 
creature. 

I lament, on all our accounts, that the last year's 
expedition to Lausanne did not take place in a 
golden period, of health and spirits. But we must 
reflect, that human felicity is seldom without alloy ; 
and if we cannot indulge the hope of your making 
a second visit to Lausanne, we must look forwards 
to my residence next summer at Sheffield-Place, 
where I must find you in the full bloom of health, 
spirits, and beauty. I can perceive, by all public 
and private intelligence, that your house has been 
the open hospitable asylum of French fugitives ; 
and it is a sufficient proof of the firmness of your 
nerves, that you have not been overwhelmed or 
agitated by such a concourse of strangers. Curi- 
osity and compassion may, in some degree, have 
supported you. Every day has presented to your 
view some new scene of that strange tragical 
romance, which occupies all Europe so infinitely 
beyond any event that has happened in our time, 
and you have the satisfaction of not being a mere 
spectator of the distress of so many victims of false 
liberty. The benevolent fame of Lord S. is widely 
diffused. 

From Angletine's last letter to Maria, you have 
already some idea of the melancholy state of her 
poor father. As long as Mr. de Severy allowed 
our hopes and fears to fluctuate with the changes 
of his disorder, I was unwilling to say any thing 
on so painful a subject ; and it is with the deepest 
d d 4 



408 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBOX 

concern that I now confess our absolute despair of 
his recovery. All his particular complaints are 
now lost in a general dissolution of the whole 
frame ; every principle of life is exhausted, and as 
often as I am admitted to his bed-side, though he 
still looks and smiles with the patience of an angel, 
I have the heart-felt grief of seeing him each day 
drawing nearer to the term of his existence. A 
few weeks, possibly a few days, will deprive me of 
a most excellent friend, and break for ever the most 
perfect system of domestic happiness, in which I 
had so large and intimate a share. Wilhelm (who 
has obtained leave of absence from his military 
duty) and his sister behave and feel like tender and 
dutiful children ; but they have a long gay pro- 
spect of life, and new connections, new families, 
will make them forget, in due time, the common 
lot of mortality. But it is Madame de Severy 
whom I truly pity ; I dread the effects of the first 
shock, and I dread still more the deep perpetual 
consuming affliction for a loss which can never be 
retrieved. You will not wonder that such re- 
flections sadden my own mind, nor can I forget 
how much my situation is altered since I retired, 
nine years ago, to the banks of the Leman Lake. 
The death of poor Deyverdun first deprived me of 
a domestic companion, who can never be supplied ; 
and your visit has only served to remind me that 
man, however amused and occupied in his closet, 
was not made to live alone. Severy will soon be 
no more ; his widow for a long time, perhaps for 
ever, will be lost to herself and her friends, the son 
will travel, and I shall be left a stranger in the in- 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 409 

sipid circle of mere common acquaintance. The 
revolution of France, which first embittered and 
divided the society of Lausanne, has opposed a 
harrier to my Sussex visit, and may finally expel 
me from the paradise which I inhabit. Even that 
paradise, the expensive and delightful establishment 
of my house, library, and garden, almost becomes 
an incumbrance, by rendering it more difficult for 
me to relinquish my hold, or to form a new system 
of life in my native country, for which my in- 
come, though improved and improving, would be 
probably insufficient. But every complaint should 
be silenced by the contemplation of the French ; 
compared with whose cruel fate, all misery is re- 
lative happiness. I perfectly concur in your par- 
tiality for Lally ; though nature might forget 
some meaner ingredients of prudence, economy, &c. 
she never formed a purer heart or a brighter ima- 
gination. If he be with you, I beg my kindest 
salutations to him. I am every day more closely 
united with the Neckers. Should France break, 
and this country be over-run, they would be re- 
duced in very humble circumstances to seek a re- 
fuge ; and where but in England ? Adieu, dear 
Madam, there is indeed much pleasure in dis- 
charging one's heart to a real friend. Ever yours. 

To the Same. 

Lausanne, Nov. 25th, 1792. 

After the triple labour of my last dispatch, your 
experience of the creature might tempt you to 
add, suspect that it would again relapse into a long 



i 



410 LETTERS FROM MR, GIBBON 

slumber. But, partly from the spirit of contradic- 
tion (though I am not a lady), and partly from the 
ease and pleasure which I now find in the task, you 
see me again alive, awake, and almost faithful to 
my hebdomadal promise. The last week has not, 
however, afforded any events deserving the notice 
of an historian. Our affairs are still floating on 
the waves of the Convention, and the ratification 
of a corrected treaty, which had been fixed for the 
twentieth is not yet arrived ; but the report of the 
diplomatic committee has been favourable, and it 
is generally understood that the leaders of the 
French republic do not wish to quarrel with the 
Swiss. We are gradually withdrawing and dis- 
banding our militia. Geneva will be left to sink 
or swim, according to the humour of the people ; 
and our last hope appears to be, that by submission 
and good behaviour we shall avert for some time 
the impending storm. A few days ago, an odd 
accident happened in the French army ; the deser- 
tion of the general. As the Neckers were sitting 
about eight o'clock in the evening, in their draw- 
ing-room at Rolle ', the door flew open, and they 
were astounded by their servant's announcing 
Monsieur le General de Montesquieu! On the 
receipt of some secret intelligence of a decret d* ac- 
cusation, and an order to arrest him, he had only 
time to get on horseback, to gallop through Ge- 
neva, to take boat for Copet, and to escape from 
his pursuers, who were ordered to seize him alive 
or dead. He left the Neckers after supper, passed 
through Lausanne in the night, and proceeded to 

' A considerable town between Lausanne and Geneva. 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. Ill 

Berne and Basle, whence he intended to wind his 
way through Germany, amidst enemies of every 
description, and to seek a refuge in England, Ame- 
rica, or the moon. He told Necker, that the sole 
remnant of his fortune consisted in a wretched 
sum of twenty thousand livres ; but the public re- 
port or suspicion bespeaks him in much better cir- 
cumstances. Besides the reproach of acting with 
too much tameness and delay, he is accused of 
making very foul and exorbitant contracts ; and it 
is certain that new Sparta is infected with this 
vice, beyond the example of the most corrupt mo- 
narchy. Kellerman is arrived to take the com- 
mand ; and it is apprehended that on the first of 
December, after the departure of the Swiss, the 
French may request the permission of using Ge- 
neva, a friendly city, for their winter quarters. In 
that case the democratical revolution, which we all 
foresee, will be very speedily effected. 

I would ask you, whether you apprehend there 
was any treason in the Duke of Brunswick's re- 
treat, and whether you have totally withdrawn your 
confidence and esteem from that once famed ge- 
neral ? Will it be possible for England to preserve 
her neutrality with any honour or safety ? We are 
bound, as I understand, by treaty, to guarantee the 
dominions of the King of Sardinia and the Aus- 
trian provinces of the Netherlands. These coun- 
tries are now invaded and over-run by the French. 
Can we refuse to fulfil our engagements, without 
exposing ourselves to all Europe as a perfidious or 
pusillanimous nation ? Yet, on the other hand, can 
we assist those allies, without plunging headlong 



IK' LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON 

into an abyss, whose bottom no man can discover ? 
But my chief anxiety is for our domestic tranquil- 
lity ; for I must find a retreat in England, should 
I be driven from Lausanne. The idea of firm and 
honourable union of parties pleases me much ; but 
you must frankly unfold what are the great diffi- 
culties that may impede so salutary a measure : 
you write to a man discreet in speech, and now 
careful of papers. Yet what can such a coalition 
avail ? Where is the champion of the constitu- 
tion ? Alas, Lord Guildford ! I am much pleased 
with the Manchester Ass. The asses or wolves 
who sacrificed him have cast off the mask too 
soon j and such a nonsensical act must open the 
eyes of many simple patriots, who might have 
been led astray by the specious name of reform. 
It should be made as notorious as possible. Next 
winter may be the crisis of our fate, and if you 
begin to improve the constitution, you may be 
driven step by step from the disfranchisement of 
old Sarum to the King in Newgate, the Lords 
voted useless, the Bishops abolished, and a House 
of Commons without articles (sans culottes). 
Necker has ordered you a copy of his royal de- 
fence, which has met with, and deserved, univer- 
sal success. The pathetic and argumentative parts 
are, in my opinion, equally good, and his mild elo- 
quence may persuade without irritating. I have 
applied to this gentler tone some verses of Ovid 
(Metamorph. 1. iii. 302, &C. 1 ), which you may read. 

1 Qua tamen usque potest, vires sibi demere tentat. 
Nee, quo ccntimuiuun dejecerat igne Typluvn, 
Nunc armatur eo : nimium feritatis in illo. 
Est aliud levins fulmen ; iui dextra Cyelopura 
Saevitiae, flammaeque minus, minus addidit irae ; 
Tela secunda vocanl Superi. 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 413 

Madame de Stacl has produced a second son. She 
talks wildly enough of visiting England this win- 
ter. She is a pleasant little woman. Poor Seven's 
condition is hopeless. Should he drag through 
the winter, Madame de Severy would scarcely 
survive him. She kills herself with grief and fa- 
tigue. What a difference in Lausanne ! 1 hope 
triple answers are on the road. I must write soon ; 
the times will not allow me to read or think. 
Ever yours. 

To the Same. 

Lausanne, Dec. 14th, 1792. 

Our little storm has now completely subsided, 
and we arc again spectators, though anxious spec- 
tators, of the general tempest that invades or 
threatens almost every country of Europe. Our 
troops are every day disbanding and returning 
home, and the greatest part of the French have 
evacuated the neighbourhood of Geneva. Mon- 
sieur Barthelemy, whom you have seen secre- 
tary in London, is most courteously entertained, 
as ambassador, by the Helvetic body, lie is now 
at Berne, where a diet will speedily be convened : 
the language on both sides is now pacific, and even 
friendly, and some hopes are given of a provision 
for the officers of the Swiss guards who have sur- 
vived the massacres of Paris. 

January 1st, 1793. 

With the return of peace I have relapsed into 
my former indolence ; but now awakening, after a 
fortnight's slumber, I have littlcor nothing to add, 



1-1 1- LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON 

with regard to the internal state of this country, 
only the revolution of Geneva has already taken 
place, as I announced, but sooner than I expected. 

The Swiss troops had no sooner evacuated the 
place, than the Egaliseurs, as they are called, as- 
sembled in arms ; and as no resistance was made, no 
blood was shed on the occasion. They seized the 
gates, disarmed the garrison, imprisoned the ma- 
gistrates, imparted the rights of citizens to all the 
rabble of the town and country, and proclaimed a 
National Convention, which has not yet met. 
They are all for a pure and absolute democracy ; 
but some wish to remain a small independent state, 
while others aspire to become a part of the republic 
of France ; and as the latter, though less numerous, 
are more violent and absurd than their adversaries, 
it is highly probable that they will succeed. The 
citizens of the best families and fortunes have re- 
tired from Geneva into the Pays de Vaud ; but the 
French methods of recalling or proscribing emi- 
grants, will soon be adopted. You must have ob- 
served, that Savoy is now become le deparlement 
du Mont Blanc. I cannot satisfy myself, whether 
the mass of the people is pleased or displeased with 
the change ; but my noble scenery is clouded by 
the democratical aspect of twelve leagues of the 
opposite coast, which every morning obtrude them- 
selves on my view. I here conclude the first part 
of the history of our Alpine troubles, and now 
consider myself as disengaged from all promises of 
periodical writing. Upon the whole, I kept it 
beyond our expectation ; nor do I think that you 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 415 

have been sufficiently astonished by the wonderful 
effort of the triple despatch. 

You must now succeed to my task, and I shall 
expect, during the winter, a regular political 
journal of the events of your greater world. You 
are on the theatre, and may often be behind the 
scenes. You can always see, and may sometimes 
foresee. My own choice has indeed transported 
me into a foreign land ; but I am truly attached, 
from interest and inclination, to my native country ; 
and even as a citizen of the world, I wish the 
stability of England, the sole great refuge of man- 
kind, against the opposite mischiefs of despotism 
and democracy. I was indeed alarmed, and the 
more so, as I saw that you were not without appre- 
hension; but I now glory in the triumph of reason 
and genuine patriotism, which seems to pervade 
the country ; nor do I dislike some mixture of 
popular enthusiasm, which may be requisite to 
encounter our mad or wicked enemies with equal 
arms. The behaviour of Fox does not surprise me. 
You may remember what I told you last year at 
Lausanne when you attempted his defence, that 
his inmost soul was deeply tinged with democracy. 
Such wild opinions cannot easily be reconciled with 
his excellent understanding, but " it is true, His 
pity, and pity it is His true." He will surely ruin 
himself in the opinion of the wise and good men 
of his own party. You have crushed the daring 
subverters of the constitution ; but I now fear the 
moderate well-meaners, reformers. Do not, I be- 
seech you, tamper with parliamentary represent- 
ation. The present house of commons forms, in 



416 LETTERS FROM DIB. GIBBON 

practice, a body of gentlemen, who must always 
sympathise with the interests and opinions of the 
people ; and the slightest innovation launches you, 
without rudder or compass, on a dark and dangerous 
ocean of theoretical experiment. On this subject 
I am indeed serious. 

Upon the whole, I like the beginning of ninety- 
three better than the end of ninety-two. The illu- 
sion seems to break away throughout Europe. I 
think England and Switzerland are safe. Brabant 
adheres to its old constitution. The Germans are 
disgusted with the rapine and insolence of their 
deliverers. The Pope is resolved to head his armies, 
and the Lazzaroni of Naples have presented St. 
Januarius with a goldfuzee, to fire on the Brigands 
Francois. So much for politics, which till now 
never had such possession of my mind. Next post 
I will write about myself and my own designs. 
Alas, your poor eyes ! make the Maria write ; I 
will speedily answer her. My Lady is still dumb. 
The German posts are now slow and irregular. 
You had better write by the way of France, under 
cover. Direct to Le Citoyen Rebours dPontalier, 
France. Adieu ; ever yours. 

To the Same. 

Lausanne, January 6th, 1793. 

There was formerly a time when our corre- 
spondence was a painful discussion of my private 
affairs ; a vexatious repetition of losses, of disap- 
pointments, of sales, &c. These affairs are decently 
arranged : but public cares have now succeeded 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 417 

to private anxiety, and our whole attention is 
lately turned from Lenborough and Beriton, to the 
political state of France and of Europe. From 
these politics, however, one letter shall be free, 
while I talk of myself and of my own plans ; a 
subject most interesting to a friend, and only to a 
friend. 

I know not whether I am sorry or glad that my 
expedition has been postponed to the present year. 
It is true, that I now wish myself in England, and 
almost repent that I did not grasp the opportunity 
when the obstacles were comparatively smaller 
than they are now likely to prove. Yet had I 
reached you last summer before the month of 
August, a considerable portion of my time would 
be now elapsed, and I should already begin to 
think of my departure. If the gout should spare 
me this winter (and as yet I have not felt any 
symptom), and if the spring should make a soft and 
early appearance, it is my intention to be with you 
in Downing-street before the end of April, and 
thus to enjoy six weeks or two months of the 
most agreeable season of London and the neigh- 
bourhood, after the hurry of parliament is subsided, 
and before the great rural dispersion. As the 
banks of the Rhine and the Belgic provinces are 
completely overspread with anarchy and war, I 
have made up my mind to pass through the terri- 
tories of the French republic. From the best and 
most recent information, I am satisfied that there 
is little or no real danger in the journey; and I 
must arm myself with patience to support the 
vexatious insolence of democratical tyranny. I 



418 LETTERS PROM MR. GIBBON 

have even a sort of curiosity to spend some days 
at Paris, to assist at the debates of the PaiuUe- 
monium, to seek an introduction to the principal 
devils, and to contemplate a new form of public 
and private life, which never existed before, and 
which I devoutly hope will not long continue to 
exist. Should the obstacles of health or weather 
confine me at Lausanne till the month of May, I 
shall scarcely be able to resist the temptation of 
passing some part at least of the summer in my 
own little paradise. But all these schemes must 
ultimately depend on the great question of peace 
and war, which will indeed be speedily deter- 
mined. Should France become impervious to an 
English traveller, what must I do ? I shall not 
easily resolve to explore my way through the un- 
known language and abominable roads of the 
interior parts of Germany, to embark in Holland, 
or perhaps at Hamburgh, and to be finally inter- 
cepted by a French privateer. My stay in Eng- 
land appears not less doubtful than the means of. 
transporting myself. Should I arrive in the spring, 
it is possible, and barely possible, that I should 
return here in the autumn : it is much more pro- 
bable that I shall pass the winter, and there may 
be even a chance of my giving my own country a 
longer trial. In my letter to my Lady I fairly 
exposed the decline of Lausanne ; but such an 
establishment as mine must not be lightly aban- 
doned ; nor can I discover what adequate mode of 
life my private circumstances, easy as they now 
arc, could afford me in England. London ami 
Bath have doubtless their respective merits, and I 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 4IQ 

could wish to reside within a day's journey of 
Sheffield-Place. But a state of perfect happiness 
is not to be found here below ; and in the posses- 
sion of my library, house, and garden, with the 
relics of our society, and a frequent intercourse 
with the Neckers, I may still be tolerably content. 
Among the disastrous changes of Lausanne, I must 
principally reckon the approaching dissolution of 
poor Severy and his family. He is still alive, but 
in such a hopeless and painful decay, that we no 
longer conceal our wishes for his speedy release. 
I never loved nor esteemed him so much as in this 
last mortal disease, which he supports with a 
degree of energy, patience, and even cheerfulness, 
beyond all belief. His wife, whose whole time 
and soul are devoted to him, is almost sinking 
under her long anxiety. The children are most 
amiably assiduous to both their parents, and, at all 
events, his filial duties and worldly cares must 
detain the son some time at home. 

And now approach, and let me drop into your 
most private ear a literary secret. Of the Memoirs 
little has been done, and with that little I am not 
satisfied. They must be postponed till a mature 
season ; and I much doubt whether the book and 
the author can ever see the light at the same time. 
But I have long revolved in my mind another 
scheme of biographical writing ; the Lives, or 
rather the Characters, of the most eminent Persons 
in Arts and Arms, in Church and State, who have 
flourished in Britain from the reign of Henry the 
Eighth to the present age. This work, extensive 
as it may be, would be an amusement, rather than 
E e 2 



I 20 LETTERS FROM BIB. GIBBON 

a toil : the materials are accessible in our own lan- 
guage, and, for the most part, ready to my hands : 
but the subject, which would afford a rich display 
of human nature and domestic history, would 
powerfully address itself to the feelings of every 
Englishman. The taste or fashion of the times 
seems to delight in picturesque decorations; and this 
series of British portraits might aptly be accom- 
panied by the respective heads, taken from originals, 
and engraved by the best masters. ' Alderman 
Boydell, and his son-in-law, Mr. George Nicol, 
bookseller in Pall-mall, are the great undertakers in 
this line. On my arrival in England I shall be free 
to consider, whether it may suit me to proceed in 
a mere literary work without any other decorations 
than those which it may derive from the pen of the 
author. It is a serious truth, that I am no longer 
ambitious of fame or money ; that my habits of in- 
dustry are much impaired, and that I have reduced 
my studies, to be the loose amusement of my morn- 
ing hours, the repetition of which will insensibly 
lead me to the last term of existence. And for this 
very reason I shall not be sorry to bind myself by 
a liberal engagement, from which I may not with 
honour recede. 

Before I conclude, we must say a word or two of 
parliamentary and pecuniary concerns. 1. We all 
admire the generous spirit with which you damned 
the assassins. I hope that your abjuration of all 
future connexion with Fox was not quite so 
peremptory as it is stated in the French papers* 
Let him do what lie will, I must love the dog. 
The opinion of parliament in favour of Louis was 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 4- t 2l 

declared in a manner worthy of the representatives 
of a great and a wise nation. It will certainly have 
a powerful effect ; and if the poor king be not 
already murdered, I am satisfied that his life is in 
safety : but is such a life worth his care ? Our 
debates will now become every day more in- 
teresting ; and as I expect from you only opinions 
and anecdotes, I most earnestly conjure you to 
send me WoodfalPs Register as often (and that 
must be very often) as the occasion deserves it. 
I now spare no expense for news. 

I want some account of Mrs. G/s health. Will 
my lady never write ? How can people be so indo- 
lent ! I suppose this will find you at Sheffield- 
Place during the recess, and that the heavy bag- 
gage will not move till after the birth-day. Shall I 
be with you by the first of May ? The gods only 
know. I almost wish that I had accompanied 
Madame de Stael. Ever yours. 

To the Same. 

Begun Feb. 9,— ended Feb. 18, 1793. 

The struggle is at length over, and poor De 
Severy is no more. He expired about ten days ago, 
after every vital principle had been exhausted by a 
complication of disorders, which had lasted above 
five months : and a mortification in one of his legs, 
that gradually rose to the more noble parts, was the 
immediate cause of his death. His patience and 
even cheerfulness supported him to the fatal mo- 
ment: and he enjoyed every comfort that could 
alleviate his situation, the skill of his physicians, 
e e 3 



422 LETTERS FROM MR. GI] 

the assiduous tenderness of his family, and the kind 
sympathy not only of his particular friends, but 
even of common acquaintance, and generally of the 
whole town. The stroke has been severely felt ; 
yet I have the satisfaction to perceive that Madame 
de Severy's health is not affected ; and we may 
hope that in time she will recover a tolerable share 
of composure and happiness. Her firmness has 
checked the violent sallies of grief ; her gentleness 
has preserved her from the worst of symptoms, a 
dry, silent despair. She loves to talk of her irre- 
parable loss, she descants with pleasure on his 
virtues : her words are interrupted with tears, but 
those tears are her best relief ; and her tender 
feelings will insensibly subside into an affectionate 
remembrance. Wilhelm is much more deeply 
wounded than I could imagine, or than he expected 
himself: nor have I ever seen the affliction of a 
son more lively and sincere. Severy was indeed a 
very valuable man : without any shining qualifi- 
cations, he was endowed in a high degree with good 
sense, honour, and benevolence ; and few men 
have filled with more propriety their circle in 
private life. For myself, I have had the misfortune 
of knowing him too late, and of losing him too 
soon. But enough of this melancholy subject. 

The affairs of this theatre, which must always 
be minute, are now grown so tame and tranquil, 
that they no longer deserve the historian's pen. 
The new constitution of Geneva is slowly forming, 
without much noise or any bloodshed; and the pa- 
triots, who have staid in hopes of guiding and 
restraining the multitude, Hatter themselves that. 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 423 

they shall be able at least to prevent their mad 
countrymen from giving themselves to the French, 
the only mischief that would be absolutely irre- 
trievable. The revolution of Geneva is of less 
consequence to us, however, than that of Savoy ; 
but our fate will depend on the general event, ra- 
ther than on these particular causes. In the mean 
while we hope to be quiet spectators of the struggle 
of this year ; and we seem to have assurances that 
both the emperor and the French will compound 
for the neutrality of the Swiss. The Helvetic body 
does not acknowledge the republic of France; but 
Barthelemy, their ambassador, resides at Baden, 
and steals, like Chauvelin, into a kind of extra- 
official negotiation. All spirit of opposition is 
quelled in the Canton of Berne, and the perpetual 
banishment of the Van Bercham family has scarcely 
excited a murmur. It will probably be followed 
by that of Col. Polier : the crime alleged in their 
sentence, is the having assisted at the federation 
dinner at Rolle two years ago ; and as they are ab- 
sent, I could almost wish that they had been sum- 
moned to appear, and heard in their own defence. 
To the general supineness of the inhabitants of 
Lausanne I must ascribe, that the death of Louis 
the Sixteenth has been received with less horror 
and indignation than I could have wished. I was 
much tempted to go into mourning, and probably 
should, had the duchess been still here ; but, as the 
only Englishman of any mark, I was afraid of being 
singular ; more especially as our French emigrants, 
either from prudence or poverty, do not wear black, 
nor do even the Neckers. Have you read his dis- 
E e 4 



421- LETTERS FROM .MR. cm 

course for the king? It might indeed supersede 
the necessity of mourning. I should judge from 
your last letter, and from the Diary, that the 
French declaration of war must have rather sur- 
prised you. I wish, although I know not how it 
could have been avoided, that we might still have 
continued to enjoy our safe and prosperous neutra- 
lity. You will not doubt my best wishes for the 
destruction of the miscreants; but I love England 
still more than I hate France. All reasonable 
chances are in favour of a confederacy, such as 
was never opposed to the ambition of Louis the 
Fourteenth j but, after the experience of last year, 
I distrust reason, and confess myself fearful for 
the event. The French are strong in numbers, acti- 
vity, and enthusiasm ; they are rich in rapine ; and 
although their strength may be only that of a 
phrenzy fever, they may do infinite mischief to 
their neighbours before they can be reduced to 
a strait waistcoat. I dread the effects that may 
be produced on the minds of the people by the 
increase of debt and taxes, probable losses, and 
possible mismanagement. Our trade must suffer ; 
and though projects of invasion have been always 
abortive, I cannot forget that the fleets and armies 
of Europe have failed before the towns in America, 
which have been taken and plundered by a hand- 
ful of Buccaneers. I know nothing of Pitt as a 
war minister ; but it affords me much satisfaction 
that the intrepid wisdom of the new chancellor * 
is introduced into the cabinet. I wish, not merely 
on your own account, that you were placed in an 

* Lord LoudiL)oroii";li, 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 425 

active, useful station in government. I should not 
dislike you secretary at war. 

I have little more to say of myself, or of my 
journey to England : you know my intentions, 
and the great events of Europe must determine 
whether they can be carried into execution this 
summer. If ***** has warmly adopted your idea, 
I shall speedily hear from him ; but, in truth, I 
know not what will be my answer : I see difficul- 
ties which at first did not occur : I doubt my own 
perseverance, and my fancy begins to wander into 
new paths. The amusement of reading and think- 
ing may perhaps satisfy a man who has paid his 
debt to the public ; and there is more pleasure in 
building castles in the air than on the ground. I 
shall contrive some small assistance for your corre- 
spondent, though I cannot learn any thing that 
distinguishes him from many of his countrymen ; 
we have had our full share of poor emigrants : but 
if you wish that any thing extraordinary should be 
done for this man, you must send me a measure. 
Adieu. I embrace my lady and Maria, as also 
Louisa. Perhaps I may soon write, without ex- 
pecting an answer. Ever yours. 

To the same. 

Lausanne, April 27, 1793. 

My dearest Friend, for such you most surely are, 
nor does there exist a person who obtains, or shall 
ever obtain, a superior place in my esteem and af- 
fection, 

After too long a silence I was sitting down to 
write, when only yesterday morning (such is now 



K'li LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON 

the irregular slowness of the English post), 1 was 

suddenly struck, struck indeed to the heart, by the 
fatal intelligence* from Sir Henry Clinton and 
Mr. de Lally. Alas I what is life, and what are our 
hopes and projects ! When I embraced her at your 
departure from Lausanne, could I imagine that it 
was for the last time ? when I postponed to another 
summer my journey to England, could I appre- 
hend that I never, never should see her again ? I 
always hoped that she would spin her feeble thread 
to a long duration, and that her delicate frame 
would survive (as is often the case) many constitu- 
tions of a stouter appearance. In four days ! in 
your absence, in that of her children ! But she is 
now at rest ; and if there be a future life, her mild 
virtues have surely entitled her to the reward of 
pure and perfect felicity. It is for you that I feel, 
and I can judge of your sentiments by comparing 
them with my own. I have lost, it is true, an 
amiable and affectionate friend, whom I had known 
and loved above three-and-twenty years, and whom 
I often styled by the endearing name of sister. But 
you are deprived of the companion of your life, the 
wife of your choice, and the mother of your 
children ; poor children ! the liveliness of Maria, 
and the softness of Louisa, render them almost 
equally the objects of my tenderest compassion. 
I do not wish to aggravate your grief; but, in the 
sincerity of friendship, I cannot hold a different 
language. I know the impotence of reason, and 
I much fear that the strength of your character 

• The death of Lady Sheffield. 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 427 

will serve to make a sharper and more lasting im- 
pression. 

The only consolation in these melancholy trials 
to which human life is exposed, the only one at 
least in which I have any confidence, is the 
presence of a real friend ; and of that, as far as it 
depends on myself, you shall not be destitute. I 
regret the few days that must be lost in some 
necessary preparations ; but I trust that to-morrow 
se'nnight (May the fifth) I shall be able to set for- 
wards on my journey to England; and when this 
letter reaches you, I shall be considerably advanced 
on my way. As it is yet prudent to keep at a 
respectful distance from the banks of the French 
Rhine, I shall incline a little to the right, and 
proceed by Schaffhausen and Stutgard to Frankfort 
and Cologne : the Austrian Netherlands are now 
open and safe, and I am sure of being able at least 
to pass from Ostend to Dover ; whence, without 
passing through London, I shall pursue the direct 
road to Sheffield-Place. Unless I should meet 
with some unforeseen accidents and delays, I hope 
before the end of the month, to share your solitude, 
and sympathise with your grief. All the diffi- 
culties of the journey, which my indolence had 
probably magnified, have now disappeared before 
a stronger passion ; and you will not be sorry to 
hear, that, as far as Frankfort or Cologne, I shall 
enjoy the advantage of the society, the conver- 
sation, the German language, and the active as- 
sistance of Severy. His attachment to me is the 
sole motive which prompts him to undertake this 
troublesome journey ; and as soon as he has seen 



428 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON 

me over the roughest ground, he will immediately 
return to Lausanne. The poor young man loved 
Lady S. as a mother, and the whole family is deeply 
affected by an event which reminds them too pain- 
fully of their own misfortunes. Adieu. I could 
write volumes, and shall therefore break off abruptly. 
I shall write on the road, and hope to find a few 
lines a poste restante at Frankfort and Brussels. 
Adieu ; ever yours. 

To the Same. 

Lausanne, May 1793. 

My dear Friend, 
1 must write a few lines before my departure, 
though indeed I scarcely know what to say. Nearly 
a fortnight has now elapsed since the first melan- 
choly tidings, without my having received the 
slightest subsequent accounts of your health and 
situation. Your own silence announces too forcibly 
how much you are involved in your feelings ; and 
I can but too easily conceive that a letter to me 
would be more painful than to an indifferent person. 
But that amiable man Count Lally might surely 
have written a second time ; but your sister, who 
is probably with you ; but Maria, — alas ! poor 
Maria ! I am left in a state of darkness to the 
workings of my own fancy, which imagines every 
thing that is sad and shocking. What can I think 
of for your relief and comfort ? I will not expatiate 
on those common-place topics, which have never 
dried a single tear; but let me advise, let me urge 
you to force yourself into business, as 1 would try 
to force myself into study. The mind must not 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 429 

be idle ; if it be not exercised on external objects, 
it will prey on its own vitals. A thousand little 
arrangements, which must precede a long journey, 
have postponed my departure three or four days 
beyond the term which I had first appointed ; but 
all is now in order, and I set off to-morrow, the 
ninth instant, with my valet de chambre, a courier 
on horseback, and Severy, with his servant, as far 
as Frankfort. I calculate my arrival at Sheffield- 
Place (how I dread and desire to see that mansion !) 
for the first week in June, soon after this letter ; 
but I will try to send you some later intelligence. 
I never found myself stronger, or in better health. 
The German road is now cleared, both of enemies 
and allies, and though I must expect fatigue, I 
have not any apprehensions of danger. It is 
scarcely possible that you should meet me at Frank- 
fort, but I shall be much disappointed at not 
finding a line at Brussels or Ostend. Adieu. If 
there be any invisible guardians, may they watch 
over you and yours ! Adieu. 

To the Same. 

Frankfort, May 19th, 1793. 

And here I am, in good health and spirits, after 
one of the easiest, safest, and pleasantest journeys 
which I ever performed in my whole life ; not the 
appearance of an enemy, and hardly the appearance 
of a war. Yet I hear, as I am writing, the cannon 
of the siege of Mayence, at the distance of twenty 
miles ; and long, very long will it be heard. It is 
confessed on all sides, that the French fight with 
a courage worthy of a better cause. The town of 



430 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON 

Mayence is strong, their artillery admirable; they 
are already reduced to horse-flesh, but they have 
still the resource of eating the inhabitants, and at 
last of eating one another; and, if that repast could 
be extended to Paris and the whole country, it 
might essentially contribute to the relief of man- 
kind. Our operations are carried on with more 
than German slowness, and when the besieged are 
quiet, the besiegers are perfectly satisfied with their 
progress. A spirit of division undoubtedly pre- 
vails ; and the character of the Prussians for cou- 
rage and discipline is sunk lower than you can 
possibly imagine. Their glory has expired with 
Frederick. I am sorry to have missed Lord Elgin, 
who is beyond the Rhine with the King of Prussia. 
As I am impatient, I propose setting forwards to- 
morrow afternoon, and shall reach Ostend in less 
than eight days. The passage must depend on 
winds and packets ; and I hope to find at Brussels 
or Dover a letter which will direct me to Sheffield- 
Place or Downing-street. Severy goes back from 
hence. Adieu. I embrace the dear girls. Ever 
yours. 

From the Same. 

Brussels, May 27th, 1793. 

This day, between two and three o'clock in 
the afternoon, I arrived at this place in excellent 
preservation. My expedition, which is now draw- 
ing to a close, has been a journey of perseverance 
rather than speed, of some labour since Frankfort, 
but without the smallest degree of difficulty or 
danger. As I have every morning been seated in 



TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 431 

the chaise soon after sun-rise, I propose indulging 
to-morrow till eleven o'clock, and going that day 
no farther than Ghent. On Wednesday the 29th 
instant I shall reach Ostend in good time, just eight 
days, according to my former reckoning, from 
Frankfort. Beyond that I can say nothing posi- 
tive ; but should the winds be propitious, it is pos- 
sible that I may appear next Saturday, June first, 
in Downing-street. After that earliest date, you 
will expect me day by day till I arrive. Adieu. I 
embrace the dear girls, and salute Mrs. Holroyd. 
I rejoice that you have anticipated my advice by 
plunging into business ; but I should now be sorry 
if that business, however important, detained us 
long in town. I do not wish to make a public 
exhibition, and only sigh to enjoy you and the 
precious remnant in the solitude of Sheffield-Place. 
Ever yours. 

If I am successful I may out-strip or accompany 
this letter. Your's and Maria's waited for me here, 
and over-paid my journey. 



i ;j 



The preceding Letters intimate that, in return 
for my visit to Lausanne in 1791* Mr. Gibbon en- 
gaged to pass a year with me in England ; and that 
the war, which rendered travelling exceedingly in- 
convenient, especially to a person who, from bodily 
infirmities, required every accommodation, pre- 
vented his undertaking so formidable a journey at 
the time proposed. 

The call of friendship, however, was sufficient to 
make him overlook every personal consideration, 
when he thought his presence might prove a con- 
solation. I must ever regard it as the most endear- 
ing proof of his sensibility, and of his possessing 
the true spirit of friendship, that after relinquish- 
ing the thought of his intended visit, he hastened 
to England, in spite of increasing impediments, to 
soothe me by the most generous sympathy, and to 
alleviate my domestic affliction : neither his great 
corpulency, nor his extraordinary bodily infirmi- 
ties, nor any other consideration, could prevent 
him a moment from resolving on an undertaking 
that might have deterred the most active young 
man. With an alertness by no means natural to 
him, he, almost immediately, undertook a circuitous 
journey, along the frontiers of an enemy worse 
than savage, within the sound of their cannon, 
within the range of the light troops of the different 



433 

armies, and through roads ruined by the enormous 
machinery of war. 

The readiness with which he engaged in this kind 
office, at a time when a selfish spirit might have 
pleaded a thousand reasons for declining so ha- 
zardous a journey, conspired, with the peculiar 
charms of his society, to render his arrival a cordial 
to my mind. I had the satisfaction of finding that 
his own delicate and precarious health had not suf- 
fered in the service of his friend. He arrived in 
the beginning of June at my house in Downing- 
street, in good health ; and after passing about a 
month with me there, we settled at Sheffield- Place 
for the remainder of summer ; where his wit, 
learning, and cheerful politeness, delighted a great 
variety of characters. 

Although he was inclined to represent his health 
as better than it really was, his habitual dislike to 
motion appeared to increase ; his inaptness to ex- 
ercise confined him to the library and dining-room, 
and there he joined my friend Mr. Frederick 
North, in pleasant arguments against exercise in 
general. He ridiculed the unsettled and restless 
disposition that summer, the most uncomfortable, 
as he said, of all seasons, generally gives to those 
who have the free use of their limbs. Such ar- 
guments were little required to keep society, Mr. 
Jekyll, Mr. Douglas, &c. within doors, when his 
company was only there to be enjoyed ; for neither 
the fineness of the season, nor the most promising 
parties of pleasure, could tempt the company of 
either sex to desert him. 

Those who have enjoyed the society of Mr. 

F F 



434 

Gibbon will agree with me, that his conversation 
was still more captivating than his writings. Perhaps 
no man ever divided time more fairly between 
literary labour and social enjoyment ; and hence, 
probably, he derived his peculiar excellence of 
making his very extensive knowledge contribute, 
in the highest degree, to the use or pleasure of 
those with whom he conversed. He united, in 
the happiest manner imaginable, two characters 
which are not often found in the same person, the 
profound scholar and the peculiarly agreeable com- 
panion. 

It would be superfluous to attempt a very mi- 
nute delineation of a character which is so dis- 
tinctly marked in the Memoirs and Letters. He 
has described himself without reserve, and with 
perfect sincerity. The Letters, and especially the 
Extracts from the Journal, which could not have 
been written with any purpose of being seen, will 
make the reader perfectly acquainted with the 
man. 

Excepting a visit to Lord Egremont and Mr, 
Hayley, whom he particularly esteemed, Mr. Gibbon 
wasnot absent from Sheffield- Place till thebeginning 
of October, when we were reluctantly obliged to 
part with him, that he might perform his engagement 
to Mrs. Gibbon at Bath, the widow of his father, 
who had early deserved, and invariably retained his 
affection. From Bath he proceeded to Lord 
Spencer's at Althorp, a family which he always 
met with uncommon satisfaction, lie continued 
in good health during the whole summer, and in 
excellent spirits (J never knew him enjoy better) j 



435 

and when he went from Sheffield- Place, little did I 
imagine it would be the last time that I should have 
the inexpressible pleasure of seeing him there in full 
possession of health. 

The few following short letters, though not im- 
portant in themselves, will fill up this part of the 
narrative better, and more agreeably, than any thing 
which I can substitute in their place. 



Edward Gibbon, Esq. to the Right Hon. Lord 
Sheffield. 

October 2d, 1793. 

The Cork-street hotel has answered its recom- 
mendation ; it is clean, convenient, and quiet. 
My first evening was passed at home in a very 
agreeable tete-a-tete with my friend Elmsley. Yes- 
terday I dined at Craufurd's with an excellent set, 
in which were Pelham and Lord Egremont. I dine 
to-day with my Portuguese friend, Madame de 
Sylva, at Grenier's ; most probably with Lady 
Webster, whom I met last night at Devonshire- 
House ; a constant, though late, resort of society. 
The duchess is as good, and Lady Elizabeth as se- 
ducing, as ever. No news whatsoever. You will 
see in the papers Lord Hervey's memorial. I love 
vigour, but it is surely a strong measure to tell a 
gentleman you have resolved to pass the winter in 
his house. London is not disagreeable ; yet I shall 
f f 2 



probably leave it on Saturday. If any thing should 
occur, I will write. Adieu ; ever yours. 

To the Same. 

Sunday afternoon I left London and lay at 
Heading, and Monday in very good time I readied 
this place, after a very pleasant airing ; and am 
always so much delighted and improved, with this 
union of ease and motion, that, were not the expense 
enormous, I would travel every year some hundred 
miles, more especially in England. I passed the 
day with Mrs. Gibbon yesterday. In mind and 
conversation she is just the same as she was twenty 
years ago. She has spirits, appetite, legs, and eyes, 
and talks of living till ninety. 1 I can say from my 
heart, Amen. We dine at two, and remain together 
till nine ; but, although we have much to say, I am 
not sorry that she talks of introducing a third or 
fourth actor. Lord Spencer expects me about the 
20th ; but if I can do it without offence, I shall 
steal away two or three days sooner, and you shall 
have advice of my motions. The troubles of Bristol 
have been serious and bloody. I know not who was 
in fault ; but I do not like appeasing the mob by 
the extinction of the toll, and the removal of the 
Hereford militia, who had done their duty. Adieu. 
The girls must dance at Tunbridge. What would 
dear little aunt'-' say it' I were to answer her letter? 
Ever yours, &c. 

York-House, Bath, 
Oct. 9th, L793. 

1 She was then in her eightieth year. — S. 
a INlis. Holroyd. 



437 

I still follow the old style, though the Conven- 
tion has abolished the Christian Eera, .with months, 
weeks, days, &c. 

To the Same. 

York-House, Bath, October 13th, 1793. 

I am as ignorant of Bath in general as if I were 
still at Sheffield. My impatience to get away makes 
me think it better to devote my whole time to 
Mrs. Gibbon ; and dear little aunt, whom I ten- 
derly salute, will excuse me to her two friends, Mrs. 
Hartley and Preston, if I make little or no use of 
her kind introduction. A tete-a-tete of eight or 
nine hours every day is rather difficult to support ; 
yet I do assure you that our conversation flows 
with more ease and spirit when we are alone, than 
when any auxiliaries are summoned to our aid. 
She is indeed a wonderful woman, and I think all 
the faculties of her mind stronger, and more active, 
than I have ever known them. I have settled, 
that ten full days may be sufficient for all the pur- 
poses of our interview. I should therefore depart 
next Friday, the eighteenth instant, and am indeed 
expected at Althorp on the twentieth ; but I may 
possibly reckon without my host, as I have not 
yet apprised Mrs. Gibbon of the term of my 
visit ; and will certainly not quarrel with her for a 
short delay. Adieu. I must have some political 
speculations. The campaign, at least on our side, 
seems to be at an end. Ever yours. • 

F F 3 



1-3S 
7o the Same. 

Althorp Library, Tuesday, four o'clock. 

We have so completely exhausted this morning 
among the first editions of Cicero, that I can men- 
tion only my departure hence to-morrow, the sixth 
instant. I shall lie quietly at Woburn, and reach 
London in good time on Thursday. By the fol- 
lowing post I will write somewhat more largely. My 
stay in London will depend, partly on my amuse- 
ment, and your being fixed at Sheffield-Place ; 
unless you think I can be comfortably arranged for 
a week or two with you at Brighton. The mili- 
tary remarks seem good ; but now to what purpose ? 
Adieu. I embrace and much rejoice in Louisa's 
improvement. Lord Ossory was from home at 
Farning- Woods. 

To the Same. 

London, Friday, November Sth, four o'clock. 

Walpole has just delivered yours, and I hasten 
the direction that you may not be at a loss, I will 
write to-morrow, but I am now fatigued, and ra- 
ther unwell. Adieu. I have not seen a soul ex- 
cept Elmsley. 

To the Some. 

St. Jamcs's-srrccr, Nov. 9th, 1793. 

As I dropt yesterday the word unwell, I flatter 
myself that the family would have been a little 
alarmed by my silence to-day. I am still awkward, 
though without any suspicions of gout, and have 



439 

some idea of having recourse to medical advice. 
Yet I creep out to-day in a chair, to dine with 
Lord Lucan. But as it will be literally my first 
going down stairs, and as scarcely any one is ap- 
prised of my arrival, I know nothing, I have heard 
nothing, I have nothing to say. My present lodg- 
ing, a house of Elmsley's, is cheerful, convenient, 
somewhat dear, but not so much as a hotel, a spe- 
cies of habitation for which I have not conceived 
any great affection. Had you been stationary at 
Sheffield, you would have seen me before the 
twentieth ; for I am tired of rambling, and pant 
for my home ; that is to say, for your house. But 
whether I- shall have courage to brave ***** and a 
bleak down, time only can discover. Adieu. I 
wish you back to Sheffield-Place. The health of 
dear Louisa is doubtless the first object; but I did 
not expect Brighton after Tunbridge. Whenever 
dear little aunt is separate from you, I shall cer- 
tainly write to her ; but at present how is it possi- 
ble ? Ever yours. 

To the Same, at Bright! lelmstone. 

St. James's-street, Nov. 11th. 1793. 

I must at length withdraw the veil before my 
state of health, though the naked truth may alarm 
you more than a fit of the gout. Have you never 
observed, through my inexpressibles, a large pro- 
minency which, as it was not at all painful, and 
very little troublesome, I had strangely neglected 
for many years ? But since my departure from 
Sheffield-Place it has increased (most stupend- 
ously), is increasing, and ought to be diminished. 
f f 4 



1 ID 

Yesterday I sent for Farquhar 1 , who is allowed to 
be a very skilful surgeon. After viewing and 
palping, he very seriously desired to call in assist- 
ance, and has examined it again to-day with Mr. 
Cline, a surgeon, as he says, of the first eminence. 
They both pronounce it a hydrocele (a collection 
of water), which must be let out by the operation 
of tapping ; but, from its magnitude and long neg- 
lect, they think it a most extraordinary case, and 
wish to have another surgeon, Dr. Baillie, present. 
If the business should go off smoothly, I shall be 
delivered from my burthen (it is almost as big as 
a small child), and walk about in four or five days 
with a truss. But the medical gentlemen, who 
never speak quite plain, insinuate to me the possi- 
bility of an inflammation, of fever, &c. I am not 
appalled at the thoughts of the operation, which is 
fixed for Wednesday next, twelve o'clock ; but it 
has occurred to me, that you might wish to be 
present, before and afterwards, till the crisis was 
past ; and to give you that opportunity, I shall 
solicit a delay till Thursday or even Friday. In 
the mean while, I crawl about with some labour, 
and much indecency, to Devonshire-House (where 
I left all the fine ladies making flannel waistcoats 1 '^ ; 
Lady Lucan's, &c. Adieu. Varnish the business 
for the ladies ; yet I am afraid it will be public ; — 
the advantage of being notorious. Ever yours. 

i Now Sir Walter Farquhar, Baronet, 
a For the soldiers in Flanders. — S. 



441 



Immediately on receiving the last letter, I went 
the same day from Brighthelmstone to London, 
and was agreeably surprised to find that Mr. Gib- 
bon had dined at Lord Lucan's, and did not return 
to his lodgings, where I waited for him, till eleven 
o'clock at night. Those who have seen him within 
the last eight or ten years, must be surprised to 
hear, that he could doubt, whether his disorder was 
apparent. When he returned to England in 17§7, 
I was greatly alarmed by a prodigious increase, 
which I always conceived to proceed from a rupture. 
I did not understand why he, who had talked with 
me on every other subject relative to himself and 
his affairs without reserve, should never in any 
shape hint at a malady so troublesome ; but on 
speaking to his valet de chambre, he told me, Mr. 
Gibbon could not bear the least allusion to that 
subject, and never would suffer him to notice it. 
I consulted some medical persons, who with me 
supposing it to be a rupture, were of opinion that 
nothing could be done, and said that he surely must 
have had advice, and of course had taken all ne- 
cessary precautions. He now talked freely with me 
about his disorder ; which, he said, began in the 
year I76I ; that he then consulted Mr. Hawkins 
the surgeon, who did not decide whether it was the 
beginning of a rupture, or an hydrocele ; but he 
desired to see Mr. Gibbon again when he came to 
town. Mr. Gibbon not feeling any pain, nor suf- 
fering any inconvenience, as he said, never returned 
to Mr. Hawkins ; and although the disorder con- 
tinued to increase gradually, and of late years very 



J L£ 

much indeed, lie never mentioned it to any person, 
however incredible it may appear, from I76I to 
November 17D ; 3. I told him, that I had always 
supposed there was no doubt of its being a rupture ; 
his answer was, that he never thought so, and that 
he, and the surgeons who attended him, w r ere of 
opinion that it was an hydrocele. It is now certain 
that it was originally a rupture, and that an hy- 
drocele had lately taken place in the same part ; 
and it is remarkable, that his legs, which had been 
swelled about the ankle, particularly one of them, 
since he had the erysipelas in 1790, recovered their 
former shape as soon as the water appeared in an- 
other part, which did not happen till between the 
time he left Sheffield-Place, in the beginning of 
October, and his arrival at Althorp, towards the 
latter end of that month. On the Thursday fol- 
lowing the date of his last letter, Mr. Gibbon was 
tapped for the first time ; four quarts of a trans- 
parent watery fluid were discharged by that ope- 
ration. Neither inflammation nor fever ensued ; 
the tumour was diminished to nearly half its size ; 
the remaining part was a soft irregular mass. I had 
been with him tw r o days before, and I continued 
with him above a week after the first tapping, 
during which time he enjoyed his usual spirits ; 
and the three medical gentlemen who attended 
him will recollect his pleasantry, even during the 
operation. He was abroad again in a few days, but 
the water evidently collecting very fast, it was 
agreed that a second puncture should be made a 
fortnight after the first. Knowing that I should 
be wanted at a meeting in the country, he pressed 



413 

me to attend it, and promised that soon after the 
second operation was performed he would follow 
me to Sheffield- Place ; but before he arrived I re- 
ceived the two following Letters : 

Mr. Gibbon to Lord Sheffield at Brighton. 

St. James's-street, Nov. 25th, 1793. 

Though Farquhar has promised to write a line, I 
conceive you may not be sorry to hear directly 
from me. The operation of yesterday was much 
longer, more searching, and more painful than the 
former ; but it has eased and lightened me to a 
much greater degree. 1 No inflammation, no fever, 
a delicious night, leave to go abroad to-morrow, 
and to go out of town when I please, en attendant 
the future measures of a radical cure. If you hold 
your intention of returning next Saturday to Shef- 
field-Place, I shall probably join you about the 
Tuesday following, after having passed two nights 
at Beckenham. 2 The Devons are going to Bath, 
and the hospitable Craufurd follows them. I passed 
a delightful day with Burke ; an odd one with 
Monsignor Erskine, the Pope's Nuncio. Of public 
news, you and the papers know more than I do. 
We seem to have strong sea and land hopes ; nor 
do I dislike the Royalists having beaten the Sans 
Culottes, and taken Dol. How many minutes will 
it take to guillotine the seventj^-three new members 
of the Convention, who are now arrested ? Adieu ; 
ever yours. 

1 Three quarts of the same fluid as before were discharged. — S. 
•2 Eden Farm. 



444 

St. James's-street, Nov. 30th, 1793. 

It will not be in my power to reach Sheffield- 
Place quite so soon as I wished and expected. 
Lord Auckland informs me, that he shall be at 
Lambeth next week, Tuesday, Wednesday, and 
Thursday. I have therefore agreed to dine at 
Beckenham on Friday. Saturday will be spent 
there, and unless some extraordinary temptation 
should detain me another day, you will see me by 
four o'clock Sunday, the ninth of December. I 
dine to-morrow with the Chancellor at Hampstead, 
and, what I do not like at this time of the year, 
without a proposal to stay all night. Yet I would 
not refuse, more especially as I had denied him on 
a former day. My health is good ; but I shall 
have a final interview with Farquhar before I leave 
town. We are still in darkness about Lord Howe 
and the French ships, but hope seems to prepon- 
derate. Adieu. Nothing that relates to Louisa 
can be forgotten. Ever yours. 

To the Same. 

St. James's-street, Dec. G. 1793. 
1G du Mois Frimaire. 

The man tempted me, and I did eat — and that 
man is no less than the Chancellor. I dine to-day, 
as I intended, at Beckenham : but he recals me 
(the third time this week) by a dinner to-morrow 
(Saturday) with Burke and Windham, which I do 
not possess sufficient fortitude to resist. Sunday 
he dismisses me again to the aforesaid Beckenham, 
but insists on finding me there on Monday, which 






445 

he will probably do, supposing there should be 
room and welcome at the Ambassador's. I shall 
not therefore arrive at Sheffield till Tuesday, the 
10th instant, and though you may perceive I do 
not want society or amusement, I sincerely repine 
at the delay. You will likewise derive some 
comfort from hearing of the spirit and activity of 
my motions. Farquhar is satisfied, allows me to 
go, and does not think I shall be obliged to preci- 
pitate my return. Shall we never have any thing 
more than hopes and rumours from Lord Howe ? 
Ever yours. 



Mr. Gibbon generally took the opportunity of 
passing a night or two with his friend Lord Auck- 
land, at Eden-Farm, (ten miles from London,) on 
his passage to Sheffield-Place ; and notwithstanding 
his indisposition, he had lately made an excursion 
thither from London; when he was much pleased by 
meeting the Archbishop of Canterbury, of whom he 
expressed a high opinion. He returned to London, 
to dine with Lord Loughborough, to meet Mr. 
Burke, Mr. Windham, and particularly Mr. Pitt, with 
whom he was not acquainted ; and in his last journey 
to Sussex, he revisited Eden-Farm, and was much 
gratified by the opportunity of again seeing, during 
a whole day, Mr. Pitt, who passed the night there. 
From Lord Auckland's, Mr. Gibbon proceeded to 



1 IG 

Sheffield-Place ; and his discourse was never more 
brilliant, nor more entertaining, than on his arrival. 
The parallels which lie drew, and the comparisons 
which he made, between the leading men of this 
country, were sketched in his best manner, and 
were infinitely interesting. However, this last 
visit to Sheffield-Place became far different from 
any he had ever made before. That ready, cheerful, 
various, and illuminating conversation, which we 
had before admired in him, was not now always to 
be found in the library or the dining-room. He 
moved with difficulty, and retired from company 
sooner than he had been used to do. On the 
twenty-third of December, his appetite began to 
fail him. He observed to me, that it was a very 
bad sign with him when he could not eat his break- 
fast, which he had done at all times very heartily ; 
and this seems to have been the strongest expression 
of apprehension that he was ever observed to utter. 
A considerable degree of fever now made its ap- 
pearance. Inflammation arose, from the weight and 
the bulk of the tumour. Water again collected 
very fast, and when the fever went off, he never 
entirely recovered his appetite even for breakfast. 
I became very uneasy at his situation towards the 
end of the month, and thought it necessary to ad- 
vise him to set out for London. He had before 
settled his plan to arrive there about the middle of 
January. I had company in the house, and we ex- 
pected one of his particular friends ; but he was 
obliged to sacrifice all social pleasure to the imme- 
diate attention which his health required. He 
went to London on the seventh of January, and 



447 

the next day I received the following billet ; the 
last he ever wrote : — 



Edward Gibbon, Esq. to Lord Sheffield. 

St. James's-street, four o'clock, Tuesday. 

This date says every thing. I was almost killed 
between Sheffield-Place and East-Grinsted, by 
hard, frozen, long, and cross ruts, that would dis- 
grace the approach to an Indian wigwam. The 
rest was something less painful ; and I reached 
this place half dead, but not seriously feverish, or 
ill. I found a dinner invitation from Lord Lucan ; 
but what are dinners to me ? I wish they did not 
know of my departure. I catch the flying post. 
What an effort ! Adieu, till Thursday or Friday. 

By his own desire, I did not follow him till 
Thursday the ninth. I then found him far from 
well. The tumour more distended than before, 
inflamed, and ulcerated in several places. Reme- 
dies were applied to abate the inflammation ; but 
it was not thought proper to puncture the tumour 
for the third time, till Monday the 13th of 
January, when no less than six quarts of fluid 
were discharged. He seemed much relieved by 
the evacuation. His spirits continued good. He 
talked, as usual, of passing his time at houses 
which he had often frequented with great plea- 
sure, the Duke of Devonshire's, Mr. Craufurd's, 
Lord Spencer's, Lord Lucan's, Sir Ralph Payne's, 
and Mr. Batt's ; and when I told him that I should 
not return to the country, as I had intended, he 



i IS 

pressed me to go ; knowing I had an engagement 
there on public business, he said, " You may be 
back on Saturday, and I intend to go on Thursday 
to Devonshire- House." I had not any apprehen- 
sion that his life was in danger, although I began 
to fear that he might not be restored to a comfort- 
able state, and that motion would be very trouble- 
some to him ; but he talked of a radical cure. He 
said, that it was fortunate the disorder had shown 
itself while he was in England, where he might 
procure the best assistance; and if a radical cure 
could not be obtained before his return to Lau- 
sanne, there was an able surgeon at Geneva, who 
could come to tap him when it should be neces- 
sary. 

On Tuesday the fourteenth, when the risk of 
inflammation and fever from the last operation was 
supposed to be past, as the medical gentlemen 
who attended him expressed no fears for his life, 
I went that afternoon part of the way to Sussex, 
and the following day reached Sheffield-Place. 
The next morning, the sixteenth, I received by the 
post a good account of Mr. Gibbon, which men- 
tioned also that he hourly gained strength. In the 
evening came a letter by express, dated noon that 
day, which acquainted me that Mr. Gibbon had 
had a violent attack the preceding night, and that 
it was not probable he could live till 1 came to him. 
I reached his lodgings in St. James's-street about 
midnight, and learned that my friend had expired 
a quarter before one o'clock that day, the sixteenth 
of January, 1794. 

After I left him on Tuesday afternoon, the 



449 

fourteenth, he saw some company, Lady Lucan 
and Lady Spencer, and thought himself well 
enough at night to omit the opium draught, which 
he had been used to take for some time. He 
slept very indifferently ; before nine the next 
morning he rose, but could not eat his breakfast. 
However, he appeared tolerably well, yet com- 
plained at times of a pain in his stomach. At one 
o'clock he received a visit of an hour from Madame 
de Sylva, and at three, his friend, Mr. Craufurd, 
of Auchinames (for whom he had a particular re- 
gard), called, and stayed with him till past five 
o'clock. They talked, as usual, on various sub- 
jects; and twenty hours before his death, Mr. 
Gibbon happened to fall into a conversation, not 
uncommon with him, on the probable duration of 
his life. He said, that he thought himself a good 
life for ten, twelve, or perhaps twenty years. 
About six, he ate the wing of a chicken, and 
drank three glasses of Madeira. After dinner he 
became very uneasy and impatient; complained 
a good deal, and appeared so weak, that his servant 
was alarmed. Mr. Gibbon had sent to his friend 
and relation, Mr. Robert Darell, whose house was 
not far distant, desiring to see him, and adding, 
that he had something particular to say. But un- 
fortunately, this desired interview never took 
place. 

During the evening he complained much of his 
stomach, and of a disposition to vomit. Soon a.„eir 
nine, he took his opium draught, and went to bed. 
About ten, he complained of much pain, and 
desired that warm napkins might be applied to his 

G G 



|.-,M 

stomach. He almost incessantly expressed a sense 
of pain till about four o'clock in the morning, 
when he said he found his stomach much easier. 
About seven, the servant asked, whether he should 
send for Mr. Farquhar? he answered, no; that he 
was as well as he had been the day before. At 
about half past eight, he got out of bed, and said 
he was "plus adroit" than he had been for three 
months past, and got into bed again without as- 
sistance, better than usual. About nine he said 
that he would rise. The servant, however, per- 
suaded him to remain in bed till Mr. Farquhar, 
who was expected at eleven, should come. Till 
about that hour he spoke with great facility. Mr. 
Farquhar came at the time appointed, and he was 
then visibly dying. When the valet de cltambre 
returned,, after attending Mr. Farquhar out of the 
room, Mr. Gibbon said, " Pourquoi est-ce que vous 
me quittez?" This was about half past eleven. 
At twelve, he drank some brandy and water from 
a tea-pot, and desired his favourite servant to stay 
with him. These were the last words he pro- 
nounced articulately. To the last he preserved 
his senses ; and when he could ho longer speak, 
his servant having asked a question, he made a 
sign, to show that he understood him. He was 
quite tranquil, and did not stir; his eyes half-shut. 
About a quarter before one he ceased to breathe. 1 

i The body was not opened till the fifth day after his death, It 
was then sound, except that a degree of mortification, not very con- 
siderable, had taken place on a part of the colon; which, with the 
whole of the omentum, of a very enlarged size, had descended into the 
scrotum, forming a bag that hung down nearly as low as the knee. 
Since thai part had been inflamed and ulcerated, Mr. Gibbon could not 
bear a truss; and when the last six quarts of fluid were discharged, 



451 

The valet de chambre observed, that Mr. Gibbon 
did not, at any time, show the least sign of alarm 
or apprehension of death ; and it does not appear 
that he ever thought himself in danger, unless his 
desire to speak to Mr. Darell may be considered 
in that light. 

Perhaps I dwell too long on these minute and 
melancholy circumstances. Yet the close of such 
a life can hardly fail to interest every reader ; and 
I know that the public has received a different 
and erroneous account of my friend's last hours. 

I can never cease to feel regret that I was not 
by his side at this awful period : a regret so strong, 
that I can express it only by borrowing (as Mason 
has done on a similar occasion) the forcible lan- 



the colon and omentum descending lower, they, by their weight, drew 
the lower mouth of the stomach downwards to the os pubis, and this 
probably was the immediate cause of his death. 

The following is the account of the appearance of the body, given 
by an eminent surgeon who opened it : 

" Aperto tumore, qui ab inguine usque ad genu se extenderat, ob- 
servatum est partem ejus inferiorem constate ex tunica vaginali testis 
continenti duas quasi libras liquoris serosi tincti sanguine. Ea autem 
fuit sacci illius amplitudo ut portioni liquoris longe majori capiendas 
sufficeret. In posteriori parte hujus sacci testis situs fuit. Hunc 
omnino sanum invenimus. 

" Partem tumoris superiorem occupaverant integrum fere omentum 
et major pars intestini coli. Hoe partes, sacco sibi proprio inclusae, 
sibi invicem et sacco suo adeo arete adhseserunt ut coi'visse viderentur 
in massam imam solidam et irregularem ; cujus a tergo chorda sper- 
matica sedem suam obtinuerat. 

" In omento et in intestino colo haud dubia recentis inflamma- 
tionis signa vidimus, necnon maculas nonnullas lividi coloris hinc inde 
sparsas. 

" Aperto abdomine, ventriculum invenimus a naturali suo situ de- 
tractum usque ad annulum musculi obliqui externi. Pylorum retror- 
sum et quasi sursum a duodeno retractum. In hepate ingentem 
numerum parvorum tuberculorum. Vesicam felleam bile adniodiim 
distent am. In caeteris visceribus, examini anatomico subjectis, nulla 
morbi vestigia extitemnt." 



fe52 

guage of Tacitus : Mihi prater acerbita&em amici 
erepti, miget mcestitiam quod assidere valetudini, 
fovere deficientem, satiari vultu, compkwu non 
contigit. It is some consolation to me, that I did 
not, like Tacitus, by a long absence, anticipate 
the loss of my friend, several years before his 
decease. Although I had not the mournful grati- 
fication of being near him on the day he expired, 
yet, during his illness, I had not failed to attend 
him, with that assiduity which his genius, his 
virtues, and, above all, our long, uninterrupted, 
and happy friendship, sanctioned and demanded. 



453 



POSTSCRIPT. 



Mr. Gibbon's Will is dated the 1st of October, 
1791, just before I left Lausanne ; he distin- 
guishes me, as usual, in the most flattering manner : 

"I constitute and appoint the Right Honourable 
John Lord Sheffield, Edward Darell, Esquire, and 
John Thomas Batt, Esquire, to be the Executors 
of this my last Will and Testament ; and as the 
execution of this trust will not be attended with 
much difficulty or trouble, I shall indulge these 
gentlemen, in the pleasure of this last disinterested 
service, without wronging my feelings, or oppress- 
ing my heir, by too light or too weighty a testi- 
mony of my gratitude. My obligations to the 
long and active friendship of Lord Sheffield, I 
could never sufficiently repay." 

He then observes, that the Right Hon. Lady 
Eliot, of Port- Eliot, is his nearest relation on the 
father's side ; but that her three sons are in such 
prosperous circumstances, that he may well be 
excused for making the two children of his late 
uncle, Sir Starrier Porten, his heirs ; they being in 
a very different situation. He bequeathes annuities 
to two old servants, three thousand pounds, and 



15 1 

his furniture, plate, &c. at Lausanne, to Mr. Wil- 
lielm de Severy ; one hundred guineas to the poor 
of Lausanne, and fifty guinea seach to the follow- 
ing persons: — Lady Sheffield and daughters, Maria 
and Louisa, Madame and Mademoiselle de Severy, 
the Count de Schomberg, Mademoiselle la Cha- 
noinesse de Polier, and M. le Ministre Le Vade, 
for the purchase of some token which may remind 
them of a sincere friend. 



455 

The Remains of Mr. Gibbon were deposited in Lord Sheffield's 
Family Burial-Place, in Flefcking, Sussex ; whereon is in- 
scribed the following Epitaph, tvritten at my request by a 
distinguished scholar, the Rev. Dr. Parr : — 

EDVARDUS GIBBON 

CRITICUS ACRl INGENIO ET MULTIPLICI DOCTRINA ORNATUS 

IDEMQUE HISTOR1CORUM QUI FORTUNAM 

IMPERII ROMANI 

VEL LABENTIS ET INCLINATI VEL EVERSI ET FUNDITUS DELETI 

LITTERIS MANDAVERINT 

OMNIUM FACILE PRINCEPS 

CUJUS IN MORIBUS ERAT MODERATIO ANIMI 

CUM LIBERALI QUADAM SPECIE CONJUNCTA 

IN SERMONE 

MULTiE GRAVITATI COMITAS SUAVITER ADSPERSA 

IN SCRIPTIS 

COPIOSUM SPLENDIDUM 

CONCINNUM ORBE VERBORUM 

ET SUMMO ARTIFICIO DISTINCTUM 

ORATIONIS GENUS 

RECONDITE EXQUISITjEQUE SENTENTI^E 

ET IN MONUMENTIS RERUM POLITICARUM OBSERVANDIS 

ACUTA ET PERSPICAX PRUDENTIA 

VIXIT ANNOS LVI MENS. VII DIES XXVIII 

DECESSIT XVII CAL. FEB. ANNO SACRO 

MDCCLXXXXIV 

ET IN HOC MAUSOLEO SEPULTUS EST 

EX VOLUNTATE JoHANNIS DOMINI SHEFFIELD 

QUI AMICO BENE MERENTI ET CONVICTORI HUMANISSIMO 

H. Tab. P. C. 



London: 

Printed by A. Sfottiswoode 

New-Street- Square. 



LRBAp'26 






